The Beauty of the Beast
by Iolus
Summary: The Second Wizarding War is over. Voldemort, dead. So why then do Harry and Hermione find themselves fleeing for their lives? The Death Eaters have taken control of the government, and Harry and Hermione are forced into hiding. That is, until Hermione gets caught, used as bait for a trap for the Boy who Lived. But when all seems lost, she finds hope in the most unlikely of places.
1. Aftermath

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the Harry Potter Series (wish I did, don't we all?)**

**Enjoy the Chapter, Please, Pretty Please Review!**

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Hermione ran. Tears and grime streaked her face, making her unrecognizable, her clothes torn by the branches whipping at her as she fled deeper into the woods surrounding Hogwarts. Blood seeped through her jeans from a deep gash on her leg, and one arm hung limp by her side. Her functioning arm was circled tight around Harry, supporting him as they both stumbled blindly away from the horrific battle scene behind them.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_  
_"Expelliarmus!"_  
_"No!" Hermione flung a spell at the killing curse headed towards Ron, but it rebounded and hit a nearby column, breaking it in two. Hermione watched horrified as Ron continued fighting Bellatrix, unaware of the curse sent his way. The jet of green light hit him directly in the back. The fighting stopped as everyone watched Harry and Hermione sprint towards their friend._

"Almost there Harry, just hold on. You hear me? Just hold on. Look at me, don't close your eyes." Hermione chanted over and over again. Harry groaned and tripped on a root. Desperate, Hermione tried to lift him, but was too weak. A group of Death Eaters were heard in the distance, crashing through the brush, searching. For them.

What Hermione wanted to do was throw down her wand and cry. Give up being miss-know-it-all, give up keeping up a perfect image, give up being the one everyone went to for help. Give up being a hero. Frustrated and scared, she cast a quick _muffiliato_ and levitated the now unconscious Harry Potter. She reached the boundary of the Hogwarts boundary, and cast a quick glance around, looking for more Death Eaters. Making sure she had a tight grip on Harry's hand, she took a breath, and disapparated.

_A curse hit the arch directly above Hermione, and chunks of Marble rained down upon her. One hit her arm, and she heard it snap in two, another tore a gash in her leg, creating a deep cut, but she could barely feel either. All she saw was Ron as he fell on the ground, dead, his brown eyes wide open, in a completely serene expression. Shaking with sobs, she turned back to the Hogwarts courtyard, where Harry and Voldemort had both collapsed. Both were twitching uncontrollably. Suddenly, a dark cloud was drawn out of Harry's chest, and he fell, barely breathing, while an identical shroud came out of Voldemort. The clouds grew darker, and larger, until they filled the sky. Rain started to pour down in torrents._

_Harry, seeing his chance, tried to get up and disarm Voldemort, but was too weak. Hermione rushed to him, grabbed his hand, and directed some of her magic into him, weakening her greatly. All witches and wizards had been warned against doing this, as it can cause in overexertion and even death. Harry, momentarily filled with Hermione's strength, shot a curse at Voldemort, who began to wither away, his gray skin cracking, as he died, his last horcrux having been destroyed. Hermione, unable to stand because of the transition, staggered over to where Ron's body lay, and fell unconscious, falling on top of her beloved, as the battle resumed around them._

Hauling Harry up to the door of the dark cottage, she knocked five times, quick, sharp raps, that radiated urgency. Molly Weasley answered the door wand pointed at Hermione, her face creased in worry, and her eyes darkened with fear and suspicion. Hermione interrupted before the older woman could speak. "Hermione Jean Granger, I charmed my parents so they think they're Arnold and Monica Wilkins, they're in Australia. I've never failed a test, except one History of Magic, but we don't need to know about that, and I punched Draco Malfoy in third year. Let me in, Harry's hurt. I've just come from Hogwarts."

Molly's eyes softened, and she took Harry from her, ushering the weary girl inside the small house. The dining and living room was filled with wounded and sleeping students. Putting Harry on a small cot near the door, she administered a dreamless sleep potion, and his face immediatly relaxed. "Now dear, I will attend to him when he wakes, But we need to take care of your arm and leg first."

"Will Harry survive?" Hermione persisted.  
"He'll be fine for the moment. Though, no doubt, he shall have a headache when he wakes. Where's Ronald? I saw he didn't come with you." Molly's eyes met Hermione's. They were silent for a few moments. Finally, Molly returned to her work, with nothing being said, nothing having needed to. Molly ran her wand over the gash in Hermione's leg, healing it, and summoned a Blood Replenishing Potion from the kitchen. The bottle was nearly empty. "Molly, others need that, I'll be fine. You're almost out." Hermione protested. The older woman's eyes were filled with grief from losing her youngest son, but determination to help.

"Nonsense, I have Luna to help me, she's making more in the back. You need it, believe me. Facing what must have gone on in that battle, im so proud of you thr-" Molly broke off, her eyes starting to water.  
"Luna?" Hermione tried to steer the conversation away from Ron. "Is that wise?" Luna's daydreaminess and tendency to get distracted always got her bad grades in potions.

"She's perfectly adept, believe me." Molly assured her. As the bitter taste of the potion faded, she could feel the pain of her bones as they mended themselves, Mrs. Weasley muttering the incantation under her breath. When her skin stopped crawling, she gave in to the coming blackness, and gave into a deep sleep.

_"Hermione, there's nothing you can do for him. He's gone. You have to get out of here. Take Harry with you, and go! Molly's taken the other wounded to Shell Cottage. Go!" Remus shook Hermione out of her stupor, and she glanced at Ron again. He looked peaceful in his death, and she felt more tears threatening to leak out of her. But she didn't care. She didn't want to fight it. She was too exhausted._

_Tears falling freely now, she looked around her. Everywhere, it was chaos. people shrieking curses left and right, dying, wounded, and tortured people filled her vision. She felt Remus lift her off the ground and growled in her ear, "This is no time to be pathetic and weak. Think of the people dying. If that doesn't work, think of your own life." They ducked as a Cruciatus Curse was sent their way. "See?" Remus said sternly. "I need you to be strong and get Harry and yourself away."_

_Hermione nodded, too dazed to do anything else. She grabbed Harry's arm, and raced through the castle. A group of three death eaters took pursuit of them, forcing her to go faster. She weaved through the castle's passageways, and ran outside, straight into the Forbidden Forest._

She woke up aware of a presence near her. Turning her stiff neck slowly, her eyes still heavy with sleep, she made out a shape next to her. Opening her eyes fully, she saw Neville, face to face with her. He smiled. "I wondered when you would wake up. You took quite a beating there."

His face was scarred and slightly bloodied, but he looked happy. "That was a courageous and stupid thing you did. And extremely terrifying to watch. We all thought you had died. Thank god Remus was there. He said you needed time to recover." Neville's gaze was stern and reflected worry. Unwilling to carry on talking about the topic, Hermione shut her eyes, but opened them again. "So what happened to you? Are you alright?" She asked. Neville grimaced.

"I went after Bellatrix and her husband. Well, you can imagine how that worked out. I killed Rodolphus, but Bellatrix was on the ground and unarmed, and I couldn't kill her; I hesitated, and she got away. I had the chance to avenge my parents, and I lost it. She escaped. I let her escape." Tears leaked out of his eyes, and he furiously brushed them away. Hermione lay a comforting hand on his arm as he cried. "It's okay Neville. You did the right thing. You didn't kill her when she couldn't defend herself. You don't need to kill her, anyway. Anyone like that deserves Azkaban." Hermione's voice was soft, comforting, empathizing, like one who had endured the same.

Neville looked up at her and smiled a light haunting memory of a smile, one that played around his lips and barely reached his eyes.

"How's Harry? Molly wouldn't tell me much, after you and him disappeared, everyone thought you were dead for sure. You should've seen McGonagall, she was cursing death eaters left and right, I wasn't sure what had come over her." He animatedly retold the story of the battle, how Remus had valiantly died saving an underage Ravenclaw student who had snuck back in to the battle, and how Tonks, in her grief, had soon followed, but not after taking many death eater's lives as well. Hermione smiled and cried at all of his stories of what had happened, wishing that she had been there to help those she couldn't have.

Mrs. Weasley marched over when their voices reached too high a level, giving them a look like the stern Madam Pince back at the Hogwarts Library would. Giggling, Hermione lowered her voice, and then clutched her head. "Ow." She muttered. "Damn Rowle shot a trip jinx at me, and I hit my head. Got him back soon enough though. Convinced Peeves to turn the tapestry he was about to run through to stone. I don't think he'll be fighting any more."

Mrs. Weasley hustled over to Hermione's bedside and placed a worried hand on her forehead. "Your temperature's a but high, dearie. Some more rest would do it good." At that moment, Bill walked through the door and headed straight to the kitchen where Fleur was baking pastries. he kissed her on the cheek as a greeting, and then walked over to Hermione. She immediately bombarded him with questions. "Where's Harry? How is he doing? Is everyone okay? When are-" he cut her off.

"I'm not in charge of what goes on around here, that's Kingsley's job. But Harry's in the back room, he-" He was cut off as Hermione jumped out of bed and limped in a lopsided fashion towards the door. As she began to open it, Bill's voice rose frantically "Hermione, he's talking to-"

Hermione stepped back from the door in astonishment. Past the now open door and sitting calmly around a table was Harry Potter, and more surprisingly, Draco Malfoy.

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**I'm not going to be one of those writers that tells you whats going to happen next, but I hope that you will continue to read my story. I'll try not to be fluffy and leave cliff-hangers. Will upload next chapter as soon as I can, if you liked it, please review! If you didn't, review anyway. :)**


	2. Plans and Problems

**Hey guys, sorry about the delay in updates, but I was traveling for the holidays and we had no wifi! Oh well, hope you enjoy the next chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter!**

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Before either wizard could react, Hermione's wand was out and put to good use. "Stupefy!" She cried. A jet of red light streamed towards the blond youth, knocking him to the floor with a dazed expression on his face. Harry grit his teeth and said with them clenched tight, "Hermione, that wasn't Malfoy. I'll explain everything in depth later, but you've just stunned our means of communication with the outside world. His name's Jacob Amanar, he came from Romania a few days ago to help us, and I thought I had figured out a way he could be useful, as a Draco Malfoy look-alike. See, look." He pointed down to the floor, where the boy lay stunned.

The boy was starting to stir, his blond hair fading to a darker hue of brown, and his grey eyes turning to a brilliant blue. His facial features became less sharp and refined, and became more fair and gentle. He sat up slowly, rubbing his head where he had fell, and looked around, unsure of what had just happened.

Spotting Hermione, he scrambled to his feet, and blushed a brilliant shade of red. "Ms. Granger! This is amazing! I had always hoped to meet you one day, I've read quite a bit about you, mostly from Luna's father though, how intelligent you are, though your pictures do you no justice at all... I'm sorry if I'm rambling, it's just I never thought that I would ever have the honor to meet you..." he stuck out his hand in a fluid motion as greeting. Hermione blushed and shook it, apologizing profusely for stunning him. "I'm so sorry, I thought you were someone else, I'm so terribly sorry, I'm jut a bit edgy from the recent battle and all, you startled me..."

Jacob just smiled. "Yes, this Draco Malfoy person must be a character, if the smartest person known to mankind hates him, understandibly so. Harry told me that I would be traveling around as Draco to get some information for us, so I've been learning what he's like, how he acts, how he walks and talks for, what, the past few days now? I was getting ready for my test just then, Harry was going to send me out onto the battle field to find out some more of what has happened, see if anyone was captured or such." He stopped his talking abruptly, with a sense that he had said to much, and sat down, a faint blush once again gracing his features. Harry smirked, Jacobs awkward mannerisms and speech reminded him altogether too much of Neville.

Hermione frowned, trying to process all the information that had just been dumped upon her thanks to the loose mouth of Jacob, but after a few moments she smiled again. It was an uptight professional smile, one that foretold disapproval, not a genuine one. "Well, I hope that you've enjoyed yourself here for the short time you have been here, but there's a war going on, and Harry should have more sense than to send in an amateur. No offense Mr. Amanar, but you haven't exactly been here long enough to work for the Order, I'm surprised they inducted you at all actually, but how do we know that we can trust you, how do we know that you are what we're looking for, that you won't shirk away from your duties? How do we know that you won't betray us when you're caught and faced with torture or worse? I'm sure that you are a man of great character, and I look forward to working with you in the future, but I feel that someone more qualified should be sent in for this particular mission, someone who knows more about Malfoy's past and the present situation."

Harry listened patiently to her, knowing that her rant would soon finish and he would be able to speak yet again. "Hermione, that's why we brought him in. He's not a top Order member, he's not even a member, so he knows nothing of our plans, which is useful if he's captured, and he's dedicated. He can work diligently, he was an active part of a force driving the Dark Lord's forces out of Romania. He's perfect. Also, if you'll notice, he makes an excellent Death Eater. Or, more correctly, an impersonation of one. Anyway, who else besides you, me, or some of Malfoy's friends know enough about him to impersonate him? There's a limited list, and I'm not about to go have a catch-up chat over a cup of coffee with Pansy Parkinson." Harry looked at Hermione with an exasperated smile.

"Look 'mione, I'm glad that you're cautious about this, but there's a border between cautious and paranoid. Don't worry, Kingsley and I will take care of everything. I'll let you know how it's getting on." He took her hand and squeezed it softly. She smiled back at him and left the room after giving Jacob an apologetic look, closing the door softly behind her.

After her leave, Harry sighed and ran his hand through his already messy hair. Jacob gulped. "Merlin, she's scarier than anything I've seen in my short eighteen years of life! I'd rather face You-Know-Who himself than be on the wrong end of her wand!" Harry smiled.

"She doesn't mean it, she's exhausted, with the battle and the magic transfer, and Ron…" He broke off, wiping his eyes as they began to spill over. Jacob averted his eyes, shifting from one foot to another, unwilling to talk about the topic. Thankfully, he didn't have to. As if on cue, the door once again opened. "Boys, dinner is ser-" Ginny Weasley walked in and stopped dead seeing Jacob nervously shuffling looking white as a sheet and Harry looking like he was about to burst out crying. Jacob blushed again, and excused himself from the situation, heading to the dining room where Mrs. Weasley was dishing out supper helped by Mr. Lovegood (who himself was causing more chaos then help).

Harry sank back down on the chair after the door closed behind the Romanian, his eyes staring blankly in front of him, barely blinking. "What am I going to do without him, Gin? He was my best friend, he had a life before him. I was supposed to die, not him. Not anybody. I just can't believe that, that" Ginny hurried over and wrapped her arms around him, her small hands stroking his hair like a mother would to a child. He leaned into her shoulder, his body wracked with sobs over losing his friend.

"I know, I know." She murmured softly over and over, silent tears slipping down her own cheeks. After a minute, Harry's sobs ceased. "I'm sorry Gin. I know that it's even worse for you, losing Ron and Fred." He took her hands in his and pressed his forehead to them. They remained in silence for a while, until only the last call of "Dinner!" roused them and sent them away.

That night, Hermione tossed and turned, nightmares drifting in and out of her few dreams. She was still at the battle, trying to fight Bellatrix, but her wand wasn't working for her, until she looked down at it and realized it was Draco Malfoy's wand. She looked behind her, and there he came, killing people all around him merely by looking at them, Ron, Harry, Mrs. Weasley all succumbing to his wrath, until his murderous gaze turned on her. His eyes burned red and she screamed, trying to run away, but her body betrayed her, she was running through thick mud. She looked back terrified, and Malfoy transformed into Voldemort, laughing a high-pitched cruel laugh.

Hermione awoke in a cold sweat, gasping as if all the oxygen in the world couldn't support her. Her blankets were twisted around her legs, locking them in place. She tried in vain to free herself, but became so frustrated she grabbed her wand. "_Diffindo_" She muttered. The sheets tore and fell away, relinquishing their grasp. She eased out of bed and walked down the hallway, still clothed in her nightgown.

A light in the kitchen attracted her, where hushed voices were arguing. She headed to the door, but hesitated to knock, remembering what had happened earlier that day. Pressing her ear to the keyhole, she was able to make out a mutter Kingsley's deep voice. She strained trying to hear more, until she heard something that made her blood run cold.

"They're on the move. And they're headed for London."

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**Adding Jacob into the mix... Please, pretty please review, that's how I know what I can fix! (It also keeps me motivated long enough to write the next chapter.)**

**Hope you liked it, I'll try to get the next chapter updated sooner then later, but it might be a little longer.**


	3. The Ministry

**Hello again, and onto the Third Chapter. This is from Draco's POV, and it takes place a while after the last chapter. The 4th chapter will skip back to Hermione's POV, and will tell her story from where it had left off in the 2nd chapter. Savvy? You guys are smart, you'll be able to keep up.**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter!**

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Draco Malfoy stared at the lift's doors closing in front of him, assuming a perfectly calm and composed persona on the outside, not letting his usual irritable mood show. He pushed the glowing button labeling level 4 on the lift's wall of the Ministry of Magic. The Minister's Office, currently held by the incompetent idiot Voldemort had appointed, Pius. No one else had stepped up to take the job, and so day after day, Draco was forced to keep his anger in check as the Ministry's upkeep slowly disintegrated into ruin. Draco had to speak to the minister now about the addition of more dungeons in the very basement of the Ministry.

It had been nearly five months after The Battle of Hogwarts, and regaining power had not been easy. After Voldemort's death, Bellatrix had been appointed unanimous leader, though some painful persuasion was needed. She recalled the Death Eaters back from Hogwarts; after Potter had disappeared with the mudblood Granger, there was no real use fighting a bunch of under-age school boys and girls other than to make a point. Instead, they targeted the Ministry. Taking over London and the surrounding areas had been easy. All members of the Order were busy rebuilding the damage done at the school and burying their dead, not thinking that the Death Eaters would be capable to taking down the ministry after Voldemort's death.

_Stupid sentimental fools. They don't realize the danger that they're in. _Draco thought bitterly. _They've sacrificed their way of life to bury a few dead mudbloods._

The lift's doors opened, and in walked two more men.

One was a feeble old man who had worked at the ministry previous to the takeover, but had been pardoned on account of his pledging to the Dark Lord's forces and his renouncement of his former beliefs. He had still gotten off easier than most, though his arms still showed the signs of the muggle torture that Bellatrix had ordered upon him. Other's were cruciated until they went insane, and then locked away in the very confines of Azkaban. Some were killed quickly and mercifully, and some were made prisoners of work camps where they died of exhaustion or starvation after a few weeks. Draco looked coldly at the old man, who looked down, quaking in fear and nervously fidgeting.

The other man in the lift was a snatcher, Silas by name, a great ugly brute who would go seek out muggles and mudbloods in hiding. Silas nodded at Draco, who regarded him with a cold indifference, and did not nod back.

Being Bellatrix's nephew, he was given an extremely high position in the Death Eater's ranks and felt no need to acknowledge anyone with a lower position. The others understood and respected that, staying out of his way, his reputation preceded him; a ruthless, cold-blooded killer.

The lift stopped with a soft jolt, and Draco strided out onto the level with a quick gait, headed towards a pair of oaken doors at the end of a long hallway. Reaching them, he knocked two short raps, then, waiting for no invitation, strode in, shutting the doors behind him.

A large chair faced the fire with the back towards Draco. "Good afternoon, Minister. Or should I say evening? It is rather late, isn't it." His cold tone could have frozen the very air in the room. The chair slowly swiveled around to let Draco look upon the man in it. "I'm afraid the minister is a bit, how shall I say, indisposed at the moment. He won't be back for a rather long time, I should think. Have a seat, Mr. Malfoy."

The man gestured into the seat opposite him. Draco allowed a slight smirk to play across his face, until it diminished back into its familiar stone mask. "And they gave you the spot then, did they Crouch? Don't you think that is unwise, with your condition and all." The scorn in Draco's voice was clearly noticeable. Barty Crouch Jr. had been released from Azkaban when the Death Eater's had taken over. "I wished to speak to Pius, not to you, you miserable creature. Where's Bellatrix?"

The disdain shown on the face of the man in the chair infuriated Draco. "Crawling to Auntie Lestrange now, are you? Not very grown up, not very grown up at all really. Can't fight your own battles, little Draco. More like a snake than a dragon."

Draco let no emotion show on his face as he stared back at the taunting man. _Let him have his fun. He won't be laughing for long._ "How would you like to be thrown down in the dungeons with the other filth and rats? That ought to suit you quite well, considering how you truly behave."

Crouch's bravado wavered for a moment, but he quickly regained himself. "Rat? I'd rather be a rat than a cowardly snake. Oh, you're a coward all right. A stupid, useless, cowardly-" Crouch got no further with his insults, for he screaming before he hit the ground. Draco's eyes were filled with a cold fire as bright as the curse emanating from his raised wand. The man before him writhed and screamed, and only until Crouch had screamed himself hoarse did Draco life his curse. Crouch's sniffling slowly diminished, until he was a shivering wreck. Without a word, Draco turned his back on the wretched man in front of him, and strode out of the door, as quickly as he had come in, leaving the sound of broken cries behind him.

He was halfway down the long hallway when he heard his name. "Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy!" One of his aunt's associates was rushing down the hallway towards him. He halted a few feet away from him, not intimidated by his demeanor. "Your aunt wishes to speak with you, she's waiting in the Pit. Immediately, Mr. Malfoy." Having delivered his message, he turned to go, until Draco's voice made him turn.

"I'm not sure I-" he was cut off by the man, who, smiling, said "You may call me Septimius."

Draco halted. _Stupid fool. As if I care who he is._ "Well, Septimius, if you would be so kind as to do me a favor, you may find a mess in the Ministers office to dispose of. If you're kind, dispose of it in the dungeons, the wretch hasn't got much to live for anyway. I would've gotten rid of it, but I can't be distracted from my duties for, shall I say, my own amusement."

Nodding to the man, he changed his direction and headed down toward the Pit, where all the captive mudbloods, blood-traitors and muggles were kept until they were of no further use to the Ministry. They were then distributed like cattle between the work camps around the country. Thanks to the snatchers, there was a constant supply.

He wound his way down the twisted stair, down, down, down, until he was deposited into a large stone chamber. Cages lined the walls, and torches illuminated the shadowy figures behind the bars. Mudbloods and traitors filled the small cages, 4 to a cell, wallowing in their own filth. A few Death Eaters were bringing in a new group brought in by snatchers, and Bellatrix was among the lot, examining the prisoners.

Draco headed towards his aunt, who was now deep in a heated conversation with one of the Snatchers, who suddenly reeled backwards as Bellatrix's hand shot up and found it's mark on the man's exposed face. Draco watched the exchange with a slightly bemused expression. Only when the snatcher had backed off, did Draco finally approach his aunt. She turned towards him with an expression of fury, but it softened slightly as she saw her nephew.

"You called for me, Aunt Bella?" this was said with a sarcastic air, for he truly disliked his aunt. Not like his hate for mudbloods and muggles, but a special hate, one he had nursed ever since he was young. His aunt in his opinion was too sanctimonious for her own good, and had always treated Draco as a child. Ever since his father's disgrace, Bellatrix had turned her back on his family, not even acknowledging her own sister, and had only given Draco the position he now held because of the Dark Lord's favoritism towards him. When Voldemort died, Draco knew that he would be the one to succeed his place, but he would have to wait until his aunt had had her fill. Then, she would be removed from the picture, leaving Draco with the clear path as the new 'Dark Lord'. Draco's thoughts were interrupted as Bellatrix began to talk to him.

"Draco, darling." His aunt purred. "A matter has come to light on a most delicate situation, one that may require your expertise I could say. Tell me now, do you recognize this person?" She stepped aside to reveal someone pulled from the line of captives. The shorn and unwashed hair covered most of the bruised face, and the person was hunched over from sheer exhaustion, but as Draco grew closer, instead of shying away from him, it raised its head and looked him directly in the eye. Neither fear nor disgrace was shown in the person's features, and even a small bit of pity for him, which enraged him.

And though the ragged appearance and dirty face at first was enough to throw Draco off, there was no mistaking the scornful brown eyes that had plagued him all throughout his school years. He was staring straight at Hermione Granger.

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**Thanks for reading, please review and tell me what you thought.**

**The next chapter is going to be a flashback of Hermione's, so don't be confused, all will be explained :) **

**I will try to update as soon as humanly possible, but I can't promise anything yet.**


	4. Complications

**Hey guys, sorry that I haven't updated in a while, I've been taking frequent excursions into "The Land of No Wi-Fi" A.K.A my Aunt's house.**

**Anyway, here's Chapter 4, it's a Hermione POV, so don't be confused. Please review at the end if you liked it! (And if you didn't review anyway)**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter!**

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Hermione stepped away from the kitchen door in shock. She stood numbly in the middle of the dark hallway, her face barely illuminated by the light coming from the crack underneath the kitchen door. She had known that some of the Death Eaters had escaped, but she didn't think that they would be able to regroup and gain enough supporters to be capable of taking over London.

_No, that's not true, they haven't taken over London yet. And they never will, we'll get people there in time._ She reprimanded herself.

The sound of chairs scraping against hardwood floor and people moving around and standing up brought her attention back to the current situation. Before the door creaked open, she was against the wall, behind a potted plant, hiding herself from view.

Only two people walked out, Kingsley, and Mr. Weasly. _Why weren't the others woken?_ Hermione wondered.

Kingsley opened the door to the front of the house, and with a nod to Mr. Weasly, disapparated. Mr. Weasly, as soon as Kingsley was gone, started walking up the staircase to where he was sharing a room with Bill for the night. In the morning, he would be back at the Burrow with Mrs. Weasley, transporting some of the more healed kids there until they could be reunited with their families. _There probably won't be much time for that, if the Death Eaters have taken control of the Ministry. Everyone will be hunted, happy reunions simply don't happen in a dystopian world._

She climbed up the stair Mr. Weasley had ascended only moments before, and quietly opened the door, closing it again without a sound. She climbed into the lower of the two bunk-beds, the top one being occupied by Lavender (whom Bill was helping adjust to the PTSD of being attacked by Greyback, though luckily she got away with only a few scratches) and soon fell asleep.

The morning was windy though the sun shone bright, and Hermione took the opportunity to stray from the house. It had been about a week before that she had heard Kingsley and Mr. Weasly talking in the kitchen, and most of the injured had been relocated to the burrow and, after some consideration, Grimmauld Place. However, Bill and Fleur had asked Harry and Hermione to stay, knowing that Shell Cottage was the safest of all three places.

So there they stayed, along with Teddy Lupin (being brought up by Fleur) and Neville, who hadn't fully recovered from the wounds he had received, and having nowhere else to go, was asked to stay as well. So it was just the six of them, with the occasional visit of Mrs. Weasly and once in a while, Kingsley or another Order member to let them know the situation in London.

And it was on this early morning, that Hermione decided to explore the seaside a bit more, enjoying it whilst it lasted. Being drawn to Dobby's grave, she picked some wildflowers and laid them before the stone marking the elf's final resting place. Footsteps in the sand behind her warned her of an approaching visitor. She barely moved however, as Harry sat down beside her. "What are you thinking about 'Mione? I've never seen you this quiet before."

She smiled, letting the early morning sun warm her and brighten her features. "Not anything, really." She replied. "Thinking about afternoons at Hogwarts, walking down to the lake or to Hagrid's hut. Avoiding Filch and Ms. Norris, sitting in the common room, playing chess, the Yule Ball, dinners and parties, visiting the elves. Back when the only thing we had to worry about was how we would survive Potions or History of Magic. Back when we weren't all mixed up in this- this- whatever it is." She gestured wildly with her hands, unable to think of a word descriptive enough for their predicament. She sighed, being unsuccessful in her search. "Well, Fleur says that in about a week, we can join the others at the Burrow. Teddy of course shouldn't go by apparation, its too dangerous for a young child, so I'm assuming that Bill will take him separately. It will be nice to get back at any rate. I bet you are looking forward to seeing Ginny again."

Harry looked down, the tips of his ears turning red.

"You miss her, don't you Harry. You worry about her." Hermione spoke softly. Harry nodded.

"Every day."

"You two really love each other. Well, you'll get to see her again soon. Don't worry." She lay down in the sand, feeling warm yet cold at the same time; the sun was burning brightly, but a slight breeze swept about, shaking the tall grasses behind them. Seagulls drifted in the wind above them, their sonorous crying the only other noise able to be heard.

All of a sudden a great disturbance shook the altogether too-peaceful atmosphere.

Hermione stood straight up, looking back in the direction of the cottage, which dark clouds had suddenly surrounded. Flashes in the smoke could be seen where spells were being thrown back and forth randomly, and cries of "_Crucio!_" and "_Expelliarmus!_" could be heard in Bill's familiar voice and other strange and rougher voices that Hermione couldn't pinpoint to a name or face, but knew for certain that they belonged to Death Eaters.

Harry sprang up behind her, and catching sight of the scene, grabbed her and fell back behind the sand dune, out of sight, cursing all the time and whispering furiously, "Get down!"

Unsure of what to do, wanting to help, but unsure of how to do it, Hermione crawled to the edge of the dune and peered over, looking into the abyss that used to be shell cottage. One of the death eater's spells caught the curtains of the living room, and the house burst into flame. She heard Bill's cry of "Fleur!" but he was soon occupied again with another Death Eater.

_Did everyone get out? Where's Neville and Teddy? Oh Merlin, Teddy! _She rushed up towards the house, but was again tackled by Harry. "Stop. Stay here. I'll go." He started towards the house that was now aflame, but stopped when he saw Fleur stumble out, coughing terribly. She had emerged from the house, carrying a baby Teddy Lupin in her arms. Tarnished in soot and her hair and right hand and arm badly scorched, she looked exhausted, and sank to her knees, behind her staggered a haggard but alive Neville.

Hermione ran over to Fleur, and with Neville's help, carried her back behind the dune, while Harry ran to help Bill, who was now battling three at once. He had knocked out another, and one was lying on the ground dead, a rebound of his own curse.

Harry quickly disarmed one of the Death Eaters, until Bill saw him. "Harry! Get out of here! Now! Don't worry about me! Take Hermione and go! It's you they want!"

When Harry wouldn't move, Bill hurled him back towards Fleur and Neville, Hermione her hands full with Teddy. When he reached them, Fleur grabbed him and Hermione, handing Teddy to Neville.

"'Ermione and 'Arry, you must go. Now, into the woods, behind ze house. Not to ze burrow, zey will be watching, everyone will be relocated in a few days. You 'ave your bag, yes? Good. Neville will apparate with Teddy to Grimmauld Place, to tell ze others before zey target them too. I know-" Fleur said, raising her hand to stop Hermione's protests to the side-apparation of Teddy, "zat it is unsafe for Teddy to apparate, but we can not afford going by foot. We must take risks, but if Teddy is put to sleep before zey go, then ze danger will be less severe. I will stay and help Bill. Go, now! Send a Patronus ze Burrow, but only after you are all safe and no one 'as followed. Neville, go."

With that final goodbye, she gave a wailing Teddy a kiss, and silently waved her hand over him. His eyes closed, and his wailing turned into a soft rhythmic breathing. Fleur smiled, touched each of the three teenagers cheeks with her hand, and swept off down the hill in the graceful fashion that only a Veela could accomplish.

Neville, his hands full of a sleeping baby, looked somewhat uncomfortable, as if afraid to wake him, and, nodding farewell to Harry and Hermione, turned on the spot and disappeared.

However, the baby's piercing shrieks had been too loud, and had brought unwanted attention upon the group. The previously unconscious Death Eater had regained consciousness, and hearing Teddy's previous cries, looked towards the dunes behind the blackened house, away from where the Veela and her husband were dueling Rowle and another snatcher, and saw the shapes of two teenagers, unmoving, staring horrified at the scene before them. With a shout, he ran up the hill towards them, thinking to himself _Even if we don't get the Order member, these two may fetch a prize. Maybe if I'm lucky, they will be of value to the masters._

But his shout alerted the smaller one, and she pointed at him. Cursing, the Death Eater lunged for them, but the girl's wand was out and she stunned him before he could grab them. He nimbly jumped aside, and sent a trip jinx her way. It found it's mark and she fell, but the other, a boy, disarmed him, and he fell to the ground, hands held above his head, his face jeering. The girl grabbed his wand and stuck it in her pocket. Enraged, the man made a move to get up, but the boy stepped in front of her, wand in hand, straight at him. The man stopped moving and resigned himself to simply glare at the girl.

"Go on, kill me." The man said steadily. When Harry hesitated, the man smiled. "Scared, aren't you? You'll never be a greater wizard then the Dark Lord was. You foolish people are weak, weak and-" the man stopped when Hermione abruptly took her wand up again and pointed it in the man's face. "_Obliviate._" She said calmly. The man's face instantly changed from anger to one of serenity and indifference. Concentrating hard, Hermione put out her hand, and imitating Fleur, waved it over the man's head. The man instantly fell asleep, and he fell face forward on the ground.

Hermione let her wand hand drop, and she allowed herself a brief smile. Harry still stood like a stone, unmoving, not blinking, finally letting the past few minutes events sink in. With one last look at Shell Cottage, Hermione firmly grabbed Harry's hand before he could protest and apparated to the only place she could think of.

When they landed in the middle of a forest made dark by the overhanging branches, Harry quickly sat up and started casting security charms, used to it after the past months of Horcrux hunting. Whilst he was casting, he shot a quick glance at Hermione.

"Where are we 'mione?"

"Forest of Avon, outside of Bristol. We can relocate in a few days, but this was all I could think of. I went to a camp nearby here years ago."

Harry, finished with his spell work, took Hermione's bag and _Accio_'d the tent out of it. He began to set it up, while Hermione, laying still for a few moments, flung an arm over her eyes and sighed heavily.

"Back on the run."

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**Hope you liked it, there's more on the way. A lot more, hopefully. And a lot more time to write *fingers crossed*. Thank you for reading and reviewing *hem hem*! :) **


	5. On the Run-Again

**Hey Guys, sorry again for the delay. But this time, I was able to get two chapters done, so maybe that will compensate you all for the wait!**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT Own the Harry Potter series**

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_"We're in the countryside; we're on the run-again. We're safe, and will send another Patronus when we intend to meet you." _

Hermione dropped her wand hand back to her side, satisfied with the message that her Patronus would deliver. She was frustrated that she couldn't send more, but she would rather be safe than sorry; she couldn't risk the message falling into the wrong hands, though it was doubtful that the Burrow would be overtaken. There was since put in place a Fidelus charm since before the war, but even Shell Cottage had had one, and they had been found, somehow.

The otter gracefully swam through the air, waiting for her instructions as to where to deliver the message. "Grimmauld Place first, and then the Burrow." She told the otter, who immediately vanished into thin air. "Bill and Fleur will have gone to the Burrow, no sense in sending a Patronus to Shell Cottage then." Hermione muttered to herself. She watched as the evanescence of her Patronus faded into nonexistence, and sighed, not quite ready for another day out on the run.

Pulling her hair into a quick and easy ponytail, she turned around to face the dilapidated tent they had hurriedly set up the previous night. She watched Harry emerge out of it and stretch, banishing sleep from his features.

"Morning, 'mione." He yawned. Hermione smiled.

"Afternoon, you mean. You've slept a good fifteen hours; is that just a boy thing or were you especially tired?"

Harry's eyes immediately opened wide and he looked around him. There was a small fire with a portable cooking pot over it, Harry could smell oatmeal, and there was a bowl of it which Hermione had left on the ground to cool off. She handed it to him now.

"Don't worry; I took care of the food and unpacking." He blushed sheepishly and took the warm oatmeal in his hands.

"I'm sorry 'mione, I should have helped. I was just so tired and as soon as the tent was up I couldn't stop myself. I'm sorry." Hermione laughed.

"Its fine Harry, I didn't have to do much, and you can't control when you go to sleep. Just remind me to tell Ginny that she'll have to hire a maid when you two get your own place." Harry blushed an even darker shade of red, if that was possible.

"I saw you sent a Patronus." He said loudly, trying to change the subject. It worked, and Hermione's demeanor instantly changed into one of business.

"Oh yes, that. I sent it to the Burrow and Grimmauld place, like Fleur said to. It's been a few hours, and everyone was probably waiting, so…" She trailed of, unsure of what to say next. The smell of burning oatmeal brought her back to the present, and she quickly turned her attention back to the pot.

"Damn!" she scrambled over the log she was sitting on and grabbed the pot by the handle, wrenching it off the fire. Harry pulled out his wand.

"_Aguamenti_." he muttered, and smothered the flames. Hermione groaned.

"Now I have a dirty pot to take care of. It will take me ages to scrape burnt oatmeal crud off the bottom of that."

Harry smiled."Long as you have soap and water, the dishes can wash themselves 'mione. Are you a witch or aren't you?" She stuck out her tongue at him.

"I was raised learning the importance of a little 'elbow grease'. There's nothing magic can fix that that can't." Harry rolled his eyes at her obstinate personality.

"I've known a little too much 'elbow grease' in my time, thanks. I was glad when magic came along, I don't want to wash any more dishes for the Dursleys."

Hermione shrugged. "Well, you were a special case. We all had to do chores, but you got the worse end of the deal. We only had to do them a few times a week. _And_ we got an allowance for it."

She stopped talking abruptly when a loud crash sounded from somewhere inside the tent. Wands drawn, the two rushed inside, to see a squirrel rush out under their legs, several pots on their sides everywhere, and a broken ceramic plate. Hermione couldn't suppress a giggle that escaped her, as the terrified animal scrambled up the nearest tree and cowered on a nearby branch, chattering obnoxiously and almost scolding the bronze pots that had disturbed his scavenging session.

Harry rolled his eyes and bent down to start picking up the scattered pots that had rolled off of the table, and put them back in their place, while Hermione set to work collecting the shards of the plate.

To be honest, she had never liked that plate, it was an ugly sort of thing that Harry had inherited from Sirius as well as the house. Obviously Sirius' mum had taken great delight in collecting various types of cutlery and dishes, all clearly designed by lovers of the dark arts, for they depicted awful scenes and snakes, fire, and mainly death were all prevalent in them. Upon picking them up, one would get a sort of empty feeling inside. But plates were plates, and it was either those or eating on a makeshift placemat made of cardboard. Hermione took the hygienic route and chose the plates, though she had always secretly wanted something like this to happen, so that she could have an excuse to throw it away.

But as there was no form of trash disposal handy at the moment, she decided it would be best to just repair it. After muttering a quick "_Reparo."_, she stood up with the plate in her hand. Hearing a sharp intake of breath from Harrys direction, she set it down on the table none too carefully, and looked curiously over his shoulder, where he was still couched on the floor, surrounded by the pots which he had left unattended.

"Hey 'mione, come look at this." She heard him call, but she was already behind him, reaching for the small letter now in his hand. She grasped it firmly and Harry relinquished it to her grasp. She brought it up to her eyes and studied the calligraphy on the front of the envelope.

It was neatly addressed to 'Harry James Potter' in dark green ink, and upon turning it over, Hermione saw it was sealed with a neat red wax insignia. The Black Family Crest was clearly shown on it, pressed into the wax. Harry, when he saw the crest, started to shake. He reached for the envelope, and Hermione pulled it away from his grasp with a shake of her head.

"I need to see that it's not dangerous. It could be a trick." She cast a quick revealing spell over it, and nothing happened. "It's safe. Here." She handed it to him, and he took it from her, still trembling. He carefully opened it, and let a folded up piece of parchment fall out. He bent to retrieve it, and unfolded it to reveal the message it contained.

Hermione watched his eyes as they followed the words across the page, and saw as his expression changed from one to anxious curiosity to one of emotion and regret. Finally he finished reading, and wordlessly handed it to Hermione. "Sirius last words." Harry said without introduction. "Read it." Hermione looked down at the letter and began to read.

_Harry,_

_I knew as soon as I saw your picture in "The Prophet" that you must have been James' son. You are alike him in many ways; your looks and speech, your talent in quidditch and your love for adventure and your bravery, but your manners, your skills, and your appreciation for everything, your ability to believe and have faith in people, seeing the best in everyone, that is from your mother. You have had the best of both, my dear Harry, I knew it when you refused to have Pettigrew killed. You knew what he was capable of doing, what he had done, but you knew that your father would not want to have his two best friends become killers. I thank you for that, Harry._

_I am writing this letter so that you will have it always. After I am gone, you shall have the house and it's occupants at your disposal, and so that may too remain. You also shall have my inheritance, all of my money and valuables, as they have been transferred into your Gringotts account already. You could say this is my will of sorts, or you could say that it is simply a farewell letter. I am planning to die, for I do not wish to. But I have had a dream, and I know that I am soon to go. I did not want to tell you, I am sorry, but that is why I have written this, which you hopefully have gotten after the whole war is over, and you can understand. _

_I know that life is difficult for you at the Dursley's and I have spoken to Dumbledore once again about you living at Grimmauld place after I am gone. It would be much safer, with all the Order Members there anyway, and I know that having you there would certainly make the atmosphere less gloomy. Buckbeak would love it too. Please remember this after everything, that those who love us never really leave us, and that I will always be with you, my dear godson, and so will Lily and James. Remember this, and never despair, for we are beside you always._

_My most sincere of apologies go with you, as well as my best wishes. Do not lose that precious faith that Lily has given you, nor your bravery and strength. You are the Chosen One, Harry James Potter. And I have cherished every moment I have spent with you._

_Sincerely,_

_Sirius A. Black_

Hermione finished reading the letter and looked back up at Harry, whose face was as blank and cold as Hermione felt. He sat down abruptly in a wooden chair beside the table, and stared into space.

"He knew. He knew that he was going to die. And he didn't tell me. If he had, I never would have gone into that bloody Ministry. I never would've dragged you all into needless danger. He never would've died. He never would've died! Why didn't he just TELL ME!"

He shouted the last two words, and clenched his fists, crushing the envelope, and pounded the table. Unsure of how to try to calm him, Hermione let him be, setting the letter down gently beside him, and stepping back outside.

The sky had since turned darker when she had last gone inside, and from the the moist warm breezes, she knew that a storm was coming. Looking high to the left, she could already see the storm clouds rolling in. But something was wrong. A shift in the air, not caused by the storm, seemed to have settled across the area. She walked a short distance away from the tent, no more than 200 meters, and stopped dead.

A man, covered in dirty clothing and with dark brown hair, was walking slowly through the woods. She gasped, and quickly stepped behind a tree, breathing hard. Looking back, she saw that the man was joined by another, and they were talking in hushed voices. She saw a wand in the hand of the man's companion, and barely contained a whimper. _How had they gotten past the charms? _She thought wildly, mind racing.

She knew that the men were snatchers, and that they were certainly searching for them, more were probably on the way. As quickly and quietly as she could, she crept back to the tent. No point in trying to take everything, she knew that they needed to get out of there. She grabbed her bag, already filled with all she needed. Harry had since fallen asleep, and she raced around the tent, grabbing the rest of the necessities. Peering outside the tent again, she shook Harry awake.

"Shh! Snatchers, here. A few hundred meters away, we need to move! Everything is packed! Hurry!" As Harry blinked, barely registering what she said, and then snapping into motion, stuffing Sirius' letter into his pockets and grabbing the rest of his stuff.

"Ready?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded, and she grabbed his hand, apparating directly into Diagon Alley, the busiest place Hermione knew, and the one where they would most likely be safe. They landed a few blocks away from Gringotts, and quickly ducked out of view behind a shop. Peering up the street, Hermione could see a few Death Eaters, lounging around. "Shit!" _I haven't been here since before the war, I didn't know that Death Eaters had taken control of this place too! Now we're trapped! _

Hermione tugged Harry along the street, and upon seeing Death Eaters heading their way, she shoved Harry further into the alleyway, and waiting for a group of death eaters to go by, then dragged him back out.

"Flourish and Blotts, the owner knows me, he can help." Hermione cautiously stepped outside again, looking around for any snatchers or Death Eaters. Everything seeming quiet, nothing moved, and it made her slightly uneasy. She stepped out further, and ran, with Harry beside her, down the street, and burst into the bookshop.

The owner, an elderly man by the name of Gerald, immediately and without a sound took them by the hands and led them upstairs.

"Quiet, and they will not find you. It is dangerous, you know, Mr. Potter and Miss Granger, to come back. You must leave as soon as you can."

He opened the door to a storage closet and ushered them in. The smell of old books and new parchment was enough to make Hermione feel as if she was in heaven, and she gave a contented sigh, forgetting their purpose of being there. They waited in the dark, shallowly breathing, waiting until it would be safe to some out again, knowing that as soon as they could, they must leave.

After it had been deathly quiet for a good 20 minutes, Hermione opened the door a crack. Under the cover of darkness, she slipped out, warning Harry to stay there until she was sure it was safe. He shook his head.

"If anyone's out there, I'm not going to let my best friend go first." Not willing to argue, Hermione agreed, though she led the way, with Harry behind her. They stepped into the hallway of the deserted bookstore, and looked around. A window to their left showed a quiet and peaceful street scene. Hermione could almost pretend that it was like a summer back when she was shopping for her school books and supplies. She gave a small smile, and, letting go of Harry, went to examine the next hall. Suddenly, a strong hand from behind the shelf grabbed her roughly, tugging her back. She screamed, alerting Harry, who spun around towards her, wand drawn.

He lifted his wand to curse the brute who was restraining Hermione, but was disarmed by a Snatcher from behind. Thinking quickly, Hermione stomped hard on her captor's foot, while at the same time twisting away from his grip, and kicking him the knee. As he went down, she grabbed her wand from his hand. She heard the sound of many heavy feet rushing up the staircase to their floor, where the scuffle had alerted them. Knowing that both she and Harry could never be able to survive this, Hermione grasped her bag with all of their belongings, pointed her wand at it, and shouted "_Portus!_" turning it into a Portkey. She cast a sticking charm on it, so that once Harry touched it, he couldn't let go, and as it started to glow bright blue, she threw it at him. Harry, surprised and unprepared, caught the beaded bag in his hands. Staring at it and realizing what Hermione intended to happen, Harry desperately tried to let go of it, but Hermione's charm held fast. Harry watched in horror as the snatchers caught up with Hermione and grabbed her, tearing her wand away and forcing her on the ground, as she fought back with all the force she could.

Hermione saw more coming to take Harry as well, and could only hope that the portkey would work fast. Harry could feel the Portkey beginning to tear him away from the scene. "HERMIONE! HERMIONE, NO!" Screaming, and trying vainly to stop the portkey from taking him, Harry struggled, his eyes focused on the girl who had saved him, her eyes tear-filled, and her face full of defeat.

Hermione watched as the portkey disappeared, taking its unwilling companion with it, and tried to stop her tears from coming, though they came anyway.

The snatcher who Hermione had kicked was up again, and yanking her hair, forced her head up to face him. "Well, we couldn't get your pretty little boyfriend, but we've got you. And I'm sure the bosses will be plenty happy to see you again."

He laughed, showing a mouth full of black teeth, and Hermione grimaced. Noticing, he stopped laughing, and glared at her. "You think that you'll be alright again, don't you, sweetheart. You don't know what's going to happen. They'll break you. You hear me? They'll _break_ you."

She spat a mixture of blood and saliva in his face as response, and stood staring defiantly at him. She felt the retaliation of a stinging slap, as he brought his hand up and across her face, a ring on his finger cutting her cheek. The blood trickled down and pooled beneath her chin. The man called the rest of the snatchers, who had previously been searching the store for loot, over to him. "Get this filth tied up." He motioned to Hermione, and leered at her. "It's time for her to pay a visit to an old friend of hers."

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**You can all probably guess who the 'old friend' is... Hope you liked it, more to come! **

**Please Review, it helps a lot!**


	6. The Prisoner

**Hello again, and on to chapter 6! I was able to get this one done on a 5 1/2 hour car ride (not too bad) down to NC. **

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the Harry Potter series**

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Draco could see his aunt staring at him out of the corner of his eye, assessing his reaction to seeing the mudblood Granger brought in. He quickly composed himself, masking the astonishment he felt inside with a professional and business-like countenance. Bellatrix smiled a self-satisfactory smirk, pleased with herself at presenting such a valuable prisoner to her nephew, as if this was an early christmas present to a young child.

"Well?" she cackled. "It's the mudblood, is it not? Possible not in the best condition, but we're not concerned about that, since that's the best anything like her will ever look. The stupid bitch fairly waltzed into our hands down in Diagon Alley. Bookstore, imagine that. I'm actually astounded that we didn't catch her sooner, I thought she was supposed to be intelligent."

Bellatrix grinned again. But when she received no reaction from Draco, she sighed. "She's the key to Potter. As long as we have his little broad, he's as good as ours. It's funny, these 'good guys'. Their one weapon is their downfall. Love conquers all, how cliché. When will they learn that sentiment is a hindrance, and always found on the losing side?" Bellatrix spat these final words directly at Hermione, and turned heel.

"Put this filth in the lower dungeons," she said gesturing to the rest of the catch that the snatchers brought in, about 20 other young witches, wizards and muggles. "but leave the mudblood for me, I'm going to interrogate her myself. Draco, meet us at 8 down in the lower chamber in the right wing of the dungeons. Bring your stash of Veritaserum, just in case we have trouble."

Hermione was stolid throughout this whole exchange, but when one of the larger snatchers grabbed her arm, she winced at the harsh contact. He bent towards her and smiled, sour breath swirling around her, making her feel as if she were to faint. "Maybe if I'm lucky, they'll let me have your remains, precious." He gave her a lurid smile, and pushed her down on the ground in front of Bellatrix.

Hermione remained on her knees, staring defiantly up at Bellatrix with her disparaging eyes that held all the secrets she knew Bellatrix longed to hear, and that clearly showed she would rather die than reveal them. _Even when she's at our mercy, she still manages to be the same condescending know-it-all she always has been. _Draco noted, half amused, and half infuriated. Bellatrix glared back, but her eyes hid the satisfactory knowledge of what she would do the girl to achieve her goal.

Bellatrix motioned for one of the snatchers to haul Hermione back to her feet, and the three of them descended towards the torture chamber which would be Hermione's hell on earth for however long it took for Bellatix to sate herself. And then, it would be her tomb.

Draco looked at his 300 galleon watch. He had two whole hours until 8. He looked up, where the rest of the new prisoners were standing still in a huddle, their herders unsure of what to do next. "You heard Bellatrix." Draco snapped. "Take this lot down to the lower chambers. And then when you're done, you can send off the new shipment to Battersea, they're in a need for more workers." He nodded in the direction of the cages lining the walls, each containing 3 to 4 haggard and wretched looking people, their emaciated bodies twisted impossibly to accommodate them.

They filled the air with the stench of their own filth, their vacant faces staring blankly ahead of them unseeing and unknowing, cadaverous appearences so thin they could easily be mistaken for their own shadows. And they were waiting until the time when they would be sent to the camps to work until they could not anymore, and would be sent to Azkaban to be disposed of. That time was not far off, and Draco knew it. Looking away from the cages and their doomed occupants, he noticed that the leader of the snatchers was waiting for his attention. Draco looked sharply at him.

"Well?" He asked. He recognized Silas, the snatcher he had seen in the elevator, but he was not as courteous now as he had been then. The brute bowed his shaggy head, and spoke in an uneducated and oily voice, displeasing to hear, and even more displeasing to have to see the one who spoke it. "My lord, I been thinking. My men and me, as it was us who done bring in the girl, the one you wanted, we didn't get nothing out of it, and we want no more than our fair share, but we aint gotten no pay in a month, and we want a reward." Draco sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Alright. What do you want for your, um, compensation?" Silas grinned.

"My men and me, we want a pick from the lot. A pretty companion for a night or two is what we've been wanting. Give us each a girl of our choice." The men behind him smiled and laughed, agreeing with their leader. Draco looked evenly at the man in front of him. "The time for negotiation is not yet past. Your requirements are too high at the current time. We need all the workforce that we can have. But," He added when one of the men angrily started forward, "I will give you first choice of any girls when a new arrival comes." The man nodded, satisfied for the time, and with his men herded the prisoners down to the dungeons. As soon as they were out of sight, Draco furrowed his brow and clenched his teeth.

_What am I thinking? Giving a young girl to an incompetent fool like that to avoid a revolt, It's blackmail. It's no different from slavery, but somehow, it doesn't feel right. _Draco sighed again and looked up, where he met the eyes of a young girl in one of the cages opposite him. Her scared eyes indicated that she had heard the entire conversation, and her gaze said all that she couldn't. Her pleading eyes and supplicatory features showed her terror of being given to such a brute, her hands gripped the bars of her cage so tightly, her knuckles were sheet white.

Draco stared at her for a moment longer, before turning towards the staircase and beginning his ascent. He had two hours to kill before he had to meet his aunt, and her didn't want to spend it in a room of people that made him feel guilt. _Guilt! Of all feelings! _He angrily thought. _I'm a Malfoy, I do not feel. Emotions are weakness, that is why my mother was killed. I am not weak like her. I am not weak like my father. I do not feel. I. Am. Not. Weak!_

With each punctuated word he hurled himself up each stair, grabbing hold of the railing and propelling himself forward. He unexpectedly reached the top and stepped back into the pleasantly busy ministry hall, the people headed out of their offices and back to their homes for the night. He looked at his watch again, out of habit. That was one thing he had learned in his house of late at the Malfoy Manor, punctuality. Always to be on time. And now there was time enough to get dinner in London and be back before eight.

He turned into the hallway where his office was situated and grabbed his cout off the back of the door. Throwing it on, he took a lift down to the floo hallway where there was already a line to leave. As soon as he approached a fireplace, everyone nervously cleared out of his way, allowing him clear access. Her nodded in acknowledgment, not out of thanks, and quickly flooed out and into his fireplace of choice. Borgin and Burkes. Unclean, but convenient.

Unnoticed by the shops slimy owner, he slipped out and into Knockturn Alley. Brushing off the soot as he walked, he reached Diagon Alley. Directly across from him was Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore where Granger was caught.

It had deteriorated since he had last seen it, and the books seemed less appealing to him than they had once been. He could almost imagine her, being revealed in the one place she had always seemed safe in, being found by hell in her one paradise. Shaking the image of the captured Hermione out of his head, he looked past Flourish and Blotts and saw a café just ahead.

He opened the door, and (needing no introduction for everyone knew who he was) was greeted with the ultimate courtesy and led to a secluded booth in the back. He sent the waiter away with a simple order of a firewhiskey and a roast duck, and just as the waiter stepped away, the door opened to reveal a beautiful and lavishly-dressed young woman who, when she looked around and caught sight of Draco, immediately headed for him, to his irritation. Astoria. She had been doggedly following him as early on as when she was able to walk, eagerly vying for his attention, trying to gain his interest, but unable to take a hint. She dropped herself gracefully into the seat opposite him and flashed him a seductive smile.

"How sweet and thoughtful to get such a private booth for us, darling." She purred. He stared at her confusedly.

"I came here alone, I didn't ask you to meet me." He carefully enunciated each word to get it through her thick skull. Though Astoria was rich and a pureblood, she was certainly not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

"What? Do you mean, drake honey," she simpered, "that you didn't tell you aunt to tell me that you would meet me here? That you had a surprise for me? She said that you asked me to dinner here tonight. I got all ready for it, it's so generous of you, sweet."

Draco ground his teeth. His aunt, of course. She had been pushing for their marriage ever since they had been born, and had tried, and failed, to set them up on one too many occasions. Draco's food arrived, and he nodded for it to be set it front of Astoria.

Grabbing the firewhiskey, he downed it in one gulp, gave a contented (and a little tipsy) smile to the waiter, and a sarcastic salute to Astoria (which was accompanied by a certain rude hand gesture once her back was turned) and left the table, his dinner back in front of the stunned girl and the waiter who could barely contain his laughter (one look from Astoria put a stop to it) and stumbled out into the street, the effects of the firewhiskey beginning to grasp him.

He staggered back into Borgin and Burkes and took a handful of Floo Powder. Shaking his head to clear it, he stepped into the emerald flames. "Ministry of Magic" He spoke, his tongue feeling thick and unfamiliar. This wasn't the first time he had been drunk, but they feeling was always unwelcome all the same.

Shooting out of the fireplace into a deserted Ministry of Magic, he got back onto the lift and pressed the button 'L' for the basement level. He got off a few seconds later, and turned down the hallway to the right, to the very end, where his aunt had asked to meet him. He turned the knob of the door, and it creaked open.

Bellatrix was in the corner of the room, sitting down and examining her nails, with Hermione on the ground in front of her, writhing around in agony and her mouth open in a horrific scream, but no noise escaped, for Bellatrix, whose ears were 'too sensitive to the howling' had cast a Silencing curse on her.

At Draco's presence, Bellatrix lifted the curse and Hermione ceased to move, sniffling. Draco, who wasn't exactly in his right mind of thinking tried to process what he had just seen.

"How are you going to get information if she can't talk?" He asked after a few moments.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Once the foreplay is over, then she can decide if she wants to talk. If not, there's more." Bellatrix slid her gaze to the girl in front of her. "That's up to her. I'll ask again. Where is Potter?"

Hermione lay immobile on the ground, tears leaking out of her eyes, and her breathing so loud and so ragged it was almost impossible to make out what she said, but the fire that remained in her eyes clearly told everything it needed to. She was loyal to the order, and it would take more than death itself to get her to betray them.

Bellatrix frowned. "Very well. You've just given me another opportunity to test out a personal favorite of mine." She pointed her wand at Hermione's core and spoke in a high-pitched voice, "_Crucio Fixatius_."

Hermione, the silencing spell off, let out an unearthly scream that resonated deeply at Draco's core and made him feel as if his very bones had shattered. She twisted and turned, clutching at her stomach, her throat, her hair, gripping the floor and convulsing. Blood-tainted foam appeared at the corners of her mouth, and she coughed up blood in between her screams and cries.

Draco tumbled back away from the scene, fascinated, and disgusted. He held onto the doorway for support, and fell to the ground. The firewhiskey burned coming back up, and the contents of his stomach showed themselves once more, although in a less appealing fashion. Unable to erase the vision that he had just seen, and unable to control the his reaction to it, especially in his now-vulnerable state or drunkenness, he vomited outside the door. A fine sheen of seat covered his face, and he wiped his mouth, trying to compose himself.

"What are you doing to her?" He cried to Bellatrix. She smiled.

"I'm fixating the entire power of the Cruciatus curse upon one part of her body; currently her stomach. The Dark Lord taught it to me. It is interesting, is it not?"

Draco rubbed his eyes. "I need a cigarette." he muttered, and staggered back out the door.

Bellatrix watched him go, uncertain whether or not she should follow. She finally lifted the curse, and Hermione, her body too damaged to respond by blood loss and internal bleeding, gave way, and she fainted, lined in her own blood. Bellatrix sneered. "So weak. Until tomorrow, mudblood."

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**Throwing Astoria into the mix, tell me what you thought of her! She'll turn up a while later as well. I think it's about time to add back in Jacob, don't you? Next chapter is on the way! **

**Thanks for reading, please review!**


	7. Splinching and Polyjuice Potion

**Sorry for not uploading in about a month, I feel really guilty...you know the drill! :) I was feeling pretty unmotivated and all, but I don't want to make excuses, so I won't. I should probably just shut up, you won't have to listen to me complain, and I don't have to feel like a complete arse. Yeah, that would be good. So anyway, enjoy the latest installment, sorry if it's crappy, I finished it at about 3 a.m. when I was in a 'total-business' mode and was sick of procrastinating and not uploading anything. **

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the Harry Potter Series. If I did, I would be in Miami outside my mansion drinking tequila shots right now. Lots of them.**

**Enjoy!**

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Draco's POV

I stumbled out of the fireplace in the manor, covered in soot and shaking horribly. I didn't understand why I was feeling so wretched, it was just a firewhiskey for merlin's sake! I couldn't possible be feeling the effects of that, I've drunk much worse, but there was no need to revisit all the horrible memories of sneaking out of Hogwarts and out into muggle London to get drunk and pick up chicks. No reason at all.

I walked down the hall to the kitchen, and grabbed a cup of tea that one of the house-elves had set out for me when I came home from work. I took a sip and nearly vomited it back up. Too weak, I needed something stronger than tea.

I opened up a pantry door in search for a drink. Muggle vodka, perfect. I poured myself a shot and threw it back, swallowing hard. After about 6 more shots, my vision was starting to blur.

_Maybe I'll get drunk and overdose_ I thought. I hugged the nearly empty bottle of vodka to my chest, and tried my best to walk in a straight line to the sitting room. I stopped and grabbed a nearby shelf for support, running my hand through my hair.

_Wow I feel like shit._ I tried to close my eyes and breath deeply, but every time I my eyes shut I saw Hermione's broken form stretched out on the ground in front of me, blood streaming on the ground, seeping through the floor and ceiling, blood everywhere, the smell of it making my head spin.

I snapped out of my trance. _Come on, Draco, what's wrong with you?_

Angrily, I threw myself down on one of the extravagant emerald green couches that adorned the main living hall and threw a cushion over my face, the bottle hanging from my hand, tipping precariously over the edge of the sofa. Extremely undignified, but I wasn't feeling exactly on top of the world.

After a few moments I threw the cushion away, unsatisfied with the fact that it couldn't solve all of my problems.

"Problems, I don't have any problems, nooooooo not at allll. Just rebelling snatchers, a psychotic aunt, a clingy ex-girlfriend, and a stubborn mudblood. Yeah, my life's great. Just great." I was slurring my words, and to an outside ear I probably sounded insane and drunk. _Well, that's what you are, idiot. Insane, and drunker than drunk. _

Somewhere in my mind a little voice was saying _You're drunk, you don't know what you're talking about. Do you have any idea what your father would say if he saw you now?_

"Yeah, he'd be all disappointed in me. His fault though, I was the one who Voldemort picked, I was the one that Voldemort trained, me. Me! Not him. He was stupid and got himself killed. I was intelligent, I was manipulative! It was all his fault, I could've been great, I could've been Voldemort's successor, but no, he had to go and get himself killed, the stupid coward. And now I have to live with the shame of being the son of a coward who ran away in battle."

I felt a sudden rage burn through me, and I picked up an expensive looking vase and hurled it across the room.

It hit the wall with a satisfying crash, and fell to the floor in a thousand pieces of glittering glass shards.

At the noise, a house-elf scurried into the room.

"Master," She squeaked. "You has broken Missus' vase! Missus Greengrass must not see this, no sir. I will clean up, yes sir, and you is going to rest sir. You do not look so well, sir." She rambled on in a high-pitched voice and went to go sweep up the shards of glass.

"NO!" I bellowed, scaring both myself and the house-elf, who shrieked and jumped away. I muttered a curse and clutched my head, it throbbing as soon as I raised my voice.

She stared at me, waiting to be dismissed, and I waved her away.

"Leave it, and Greengrass can stuff it if she sees it. Although it doesn't look like she sees much today, she's got her head too far up her own arse." I growled.

The terrified elf left the room as quickly as it had come, leaving me to stare at the broken vase lying on the ground. It was an ugly birthday present Astoria had gotten me a while back when mother was still alive.

Mum had never liked Astoria, she said so frequently whenever we were alone and Lucius couldn't hear us. In fact, she never would have agreed to a marriage between us had Bellatrix not stepped in and bullied her into it.

I let out another loud groan, and pulled my coat back on. It masked the smell of vodka and firewhiskey. _Perhaps some fresh air will do me good_. _Walk around downtown London and think everything over_. I nodded to myself as I teetered out the door. _That's exactly what I'll do_. I walked with a slight tilt to the side down the long pathway until I reached the main road.

Closing my eyes and trying to concentrate, I apparated; but instead of landing in London like I planned, a huge pain leapt up my entire leg and I gave way to blackness, the last thing I saw being a dimmed lamp on a deserted suburb street.

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Non-Specific Persons POV

_30 minutes earlier at Headquarters of the Order of the Pheonix_

It had been about 2 and a half hours since Harry had appeared in the middle of the main hall, clutching Hermione's bag and still screaming her name at the top of his lungs, 2 hours since Neville and Teddy had arrived, accompanied by Mrs. Weasley, and only an hour since Mr. Weasley had led a search party out to Shell Cottage to aid Bill and Fleur. For Jacob Amanar, time was passing very slowly.

Everyone was rushing around trying to attend to everything at once, three different order members were with Harry upstairs trying to get enough out of him to figure out what happened to him and Hermione, and Jacob, not being a top Order member, was being shoved aside this way and that. He was currently seated in a dusty old chair out in the corner of the kitchen, while Luna prepared a sleeping-draught for when Harry's questioning was over.

"You seem very preoccupied. It must be the wrackspurts, I thought I saw a few around here somewhere. Don't worry, the symptoms aren't serious, and the confusion goes away after a few hours." She looked at him with a queer scrutinizing sort of glance, and he squirmed uncomfortably under it.

"I feel fine, thanks. Just wish that I knew what was going on and all." He mumbled. Luna smiled and nodded.

"It's always hard on the new ones, but don't worry, you'll soon feel at home. Once you've been here long enough, it's practically your home, and we're just your extended family. That was the one thing that I liked about it when I first joined, everyone was so friendly and accepting. Much unlike Hogwarts. The kids there were not the kindest, but I knew that they couldn't do anything long-lasting. The things we love always have a way of coming back to us." She smiled dreamily at some memory, and Jacob was almost intrigued by her nostalgia.

"Was it that hard for you at Hogwarts?" He asked. She turned her attention back to him.

"As long as you don't lose yourself in what others think of you, and only care about what you think of yourself, then it was really quite enjoyable." Jacob nodded and opened his mouth to ask another question, but was interrupted as Kingsley rushed into the room, a few moments, he straightened up, cleared his throat, and announced,

"Hermione's been captured, by the Death Eaters. They've got her at the Ministry, she's most likely being tortured, if she's not already dead. We need to get in there." He stopped when a silvery shape of a weasel swept into the room.

The weasel glided on top of the table, and stood on it's hind legs, facing Kingsley. It opened it's mouth and spoke in the voice of Mr. Weasley, _"Kingsley, Draco Malfoy has been found exactly two streets down. He's inebriated and seems to have badly splinched himself. He's currently unconscious, we're bringing him in."_

Kingsley's eyes grew wide, and he turned his attention to Jacob. "My boy, it's your turn. Are you ready? I feel that you have been trained enough, and this is of the utmost importance. We need to get you in, help you get Hermione, and get you both back out alive. Miss Lovegood," He spoke addressing Luna now, "when will that polyjuice potion be ready?" Luna smiled.

"It's been ready for a few days, but it should be good as new. Just bring us the hairs, and that's that."

At that moment, the door opened, and you could hear Mr. Weasley mumbling and panting, and the sound of a body being dragged over the threshold. Jacob and Kingsley rushed to his aid, where Jacob got his first impression of the man he was to be impersonating.

He did not look nearly as bad or mean as Jacob thought he would, although there was a vain sort of attitude that graced his features. It could be the fact that blood was rushing from a badly tied tourniquet, or the fact that he was drunk and unconscious, or that he looked almost a bit sad and frustrated that made Jacob feel the smallest bit of pity for him, but he caught himself in time.

"Is he sleeping?" Jacob asked. Mr. Weasley nodded.

"Sleeping spell. On top of that, he's had plenty to drink and passed out after he splinched. He should have known not to apparate while drunk, but I guess when you're drunk you don't think of stuff like that." Mr. Weasley let him slump against the wall, and Luna nimbly stepped forward and plucked two hairs off of his head.

"There, that's perfect. It should be ready for you in a few minutes, Mr. Amanar."

Jacob paled. "What? I don't know what I'm doing, I'm not ready, The brightest witch of our age has just been captured and I have to go save her and myself, I don't know what I'm doing, I have to impersonate a snobby Death Eater LEADER for merlin's sake, and you want to send me in the middle of Death Eater-ville where there's tons of blood-thirsty lunatics who would just love to rip out my heart and feed on it, and If I mess up and they go apeshit then there's no way of me or Hermione getting out alive, which is most likely going to happen!"

Kingsley looked almost bored at Jacob's outburst, and when he finished, out of breath, asked harshly, "Are you quite done Mr. Amanar? We brought you here because you were dedicated and not afraid to fight for the cause. It is perfectly acceptable to be nervous, but you cannot let people down. You have a job to do, this is what you've prepared for the past 3 months. You _cannot_ let us down."

Kingsley's urgent words struck Jacob, and he suddenly felt ashamed of himself. Hermione was alone somewhere in enemy territory, being tortured, and she was braver then he ever would be, he who was scared to even try to save her. He bit his lip, and shakily asked,

"Just how do I get into this Ministry place?"

Kingsley smiled. "We'll take you there. The rest is up to you. Take this," He handed him a small pad and a quill. "If you need to get in touch, write down what you need to say on here. I have one that I will use if I need to get in touch with you. Don't send a patronus, they will have charms against it, and if you need to see us, we can find a time and place to exchange information. Hermione will be in the dungeons, that's in the lowest level of the Ministry." Luna passed him a vial full of green liquid, and handed him two white-blond hairs.

"Whenever you're ready." She said. Jacob gulped, and put the hairs in the vial. It frothed and bubbled, until it turned a clear emerald-green color, not unlike the robes that Jacob had seen Malfoy wearing in the pictures of him from Hogwarts. He pinched the bridge of his nose and gulped the potion down. It had an acrid taste, and Jacob wanted to spit it out immediately, but he swallowed it down, wincing.

His hair changed from brown to blonde, he grew until his pants were 3 inches too short, and his chin lengthened and cheekbones became more prominent. He looked at himself in the mirror, grey eyes staring back instead of the usual blue. He ran his hand through his fringe of soft hair and stared at it wonderingly. His hands were manicured neatly and looked as if they were made of sculptured marble.

Kingsley broke him from his trance when he said "You and him need to change clothes. And then you need to get on your way. Take this," he handed him the rest of the potion, a large vialfull and a few hairs, "in case you need extra, and we'll leave as soon as possible. I can't say how long Malfoy will be missed, but it surely won't be long."

Jacob quickly stripped down to his boxers and put Malfoy's clothes on as they were handed to him. Freshly ironed shirt, tailored pants, and a coat that seemed it was made for him. As Kingsley handed him a golden watch, Jacob gasped.

"Oh just put it on." Kingsley snapped. Jacob nodded wordlessly and snapped it to his wrist, admiring the craftsmanship.

Fully dressed in Malfoy's clothes, Jacob stood by the doorway, awaiting Kingsley's last orders, while Kingsley was talking with Mr. Weasley about where to put Malfoy.

"Upstairs, Regulus' room. No one's in there, and there's no windows or any way out. Station two people in the room with him so when he wakes he'll have some questions to answer for us. Give his wand to one of the others who doesn't have one, I think Miss Patil is at a loss for one, she'll be happy to take it off your hands." Arthur nodded and levitated the still-unconscious body of Malfoy up the stairs and out of Jacob's sight.

Turning back to Jacob, Kingsley said nothing, but placed his hand on his shoulder.

"We're apparating to the entrance. Hold on." Jacob shut his eyes, and a moment later when his feet were on solid ground again, opened them. They were outside a men's loo. Stepping inside, Jacob saw it was deserted. Kingsley pointed to the nearest toilet.

"Just pull the lever, and you'll come through a floo fireplace. Lift is on the left." Jacob stepped into the toilet bowl, though surprisingly his clothes did not get wet. he was about to leave when Kingsley grasped the sleeve of his arm firmly. Jacob turned back towards him and met his stern gaze.

"Just remember. You're a Malfoy. You're _the_ Malfoy. Sanctimonious, upper-class. Act it. And don't forget your goal." Jacob swallowed, anxious to get it over with.

Kingsley looked into his eyes and nodded, releasing his grip. "Well then, on with it. See you soon, Mr. Amanar." He apparated away, leaving Jacob by himself in the deserted loo. He reached up and curled his hand around the lever.

_3...2...1..._

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**Sorry, everything's moving a bit quickly. Okay, really quickly. I just want to get this done so I can sleep. Can't blame me, human's are inately selfish. Okay, so you can blame me a little bit. **

**Please review if you liked it, or didn't, it helps me A LOT and keeps me motivated better than coffee does (sorry Starbucks, I still love you). Yay reviews! And coffee! **

**Free coffee (or hot chocolate if you'd rather have that) to everyone who reviews/favorites. I love you all!**


	8. Unrest at the Headquarters

**Heeeeey all. How's spring break going? I'm in Georgia hanging out with the Alligators...So If I randomly stop uploading, it's because I've been eaten.**

**I swear I was going to update sooner, I felt so motivated yesterday. I got up, went on a run, and came back all like "Yeah, I'm gonna upload another chapter today!" and then spent the whole day on the couch of the hotel room in Savannah watching and rewatching YouTube videos... I can say that my grades are suffering because of it, but deep down, I don't really care. Take that, crabby english teacher! *childishly sticking out tongue***

**Anyway, yet another chapter, yet another part of the journey that we take together...I feel so very sentimental. Okay, moment's gone, back to the story. **

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the Harry Potter Series.**

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Mr. Weasley was not the happiest of people at the moment.

He was currently in one of the upper right-sided wings of Grimmauld Place, once again the hiding spot for the Order, and was cleansing (or to use a more proper term, dumping buckets of icy water) on the blonde head of a certain unfavorable and recently splinched young Malfoy.

Having heard from Lavender Brown not moments before he was about to set off for the Burrow that a few Muggles had wandered upon a seemingly dead Draco Malfoy and had panicked, he had been obliged to go forth and do as any good order member would do; detain the enemy. But when he realized the critical condition that Malfoy was in (not that he cared much for the stuck-up prat, after all, he was Voldemort's right-hand-man) he knew that he would not be filling in the job of an interrogator, but one of a nurse. And never having had much time to prepare for his new nursing-a-death-eater job, he was less than enthralled about it.

Grabbing another bucket from under the running tap, he waited until it was ¾ of the way full of icy water and then poured it over the blond head. Most of the blood had been washed away the first three times, but Mr. Weasley figured why not make it an even four. Or odd five. Or even six. But by the seventh dunking, Arthur Weasley's feeling of amusement had dissipated, and he began to worry if the drunkard would even wake up, or if he was dead.

The wound on his chest had been healed relatively quickly by Luna, and he showed no more outward signs of damage other than some bruising and cuts on his hands.

Shrugging, Arthur poured the water over the blonde once more. _Eighth time's a charm._

Indeed it was, because no sooner had the latest installment of freezing water been poured upon him, Draco Malfoy awoke from his inebriated stupor, spluttering for air and rambling on something about a vase. Mr. Weasley had the foresight to tie his hands to the back of the chair while he was still unconscious and had disarmed him before, giving his wand to the wandless Parvati. So when Draco's gaze changed from confused to murderous, Arthur was relatively unconcerned.

"Your wand's been taken away, you've splinched after drinking yourself into a vegetative state, and you're currently not in the optimum position to do anything about your predicament, so I wouldn't even try." Draco didn't look surprised, he was almost bored. He stared evenly at the elder man, his icy eyes revealing nothing and a disdaining sneer ever present on his face.

"So, you've managed to catch yourself a drunk Death Eater, who couldn't even run away. You must feel very accomplished indeed. Must be a big break for you, Weasley. I guess you've always been good-for-nothing, but now maybe the Order will consider keeping you." He drawled, relaxing in the chair, and presenting the picture of a young man on vacation, where, if he could, he would have his hands behind his head and his legs crossed.

Mr. Weasley' s face changed to a shade of red and he pointed his wand at the boy who stared at the wand in front of him. "_Adstringo_." A gag tied itself roughly around Malfoy's face, cutting into his skin slightly and preventing him from speaking.

Though Malfoy could no longer speak, his eyes remained fiery and full of hatred towards the older Weasley. Mr. Weasley spoke loudly and clearly, to ensure that his message was received. "Just because I work for the Order, doesn't mean that I will not hurt you. You bastards killed my son, and I haven't forgotten all that you did before that. Dumbledore may have believed your little façade of goodness, but he's not here, and we all know who you truly are." He stopped, keeping himself in check lest he do anything other than shout. "Someone will be up to see you shortly." He growled.

With that, he quickly strode out of the room, without looking back, slamming the door behind him. He stomped down the stairs into the kitchen area where a few Order members were talking in-between bites of a late supper. He poured himself a cup of tea, whilst everyone looked at him, waiting for information. Drinking it in one large gulp and wincing at the burning sensation it caused in his throat, he turned to face the others, nodded, and walked back out the way he had come; and once at the door, stepped outside and apparated back to the Burrow without another word.

**Harry POV**

With every step he took, Harry's stomach dropped lower and lower until he felt he was about to throw up. He was walking down the long and foreboding hallway to the prison-like room where his life-long enemy, Draco Malfoy, was being held; in charge of interrogating him, and whatever else he would like to do.

Kingsley had told him that he was in charge of interrogation, because Malfoy would be most likely to talk to him. But Harry figured that the Auror just didn't want to deal with it himself, and recognized that if Harry was sent in there, he would be susceptible to Malfoy's taunts and get mad, most likely injuring Malfoy and placing him in a more vulnerable position for further questioning. Not to mention that Kingsley was already pissed at Harry for questioning his authority and wanted him out of his hair.

The previous day, Harry had walked in on Kingsley talking Jacob through the layout of the Ministry; the dungeon, the minister's office, the Floo hallway, and showing him pictures of people he should know; the minister, Pius, his aunt, Bellatrix, and various other Death Eaters.

"What's going on?" Harry had asked.

Kingsley had given him a look, saying, "Going over Jacob's mission, you never know when he could be sent in." Harry opened his mouth, about to interject his opinion, but one look of Kingsley made him hesitate.

"Were you going to say something? What were you going to say?" Jacob had noticed the silent exchange between the two men, and cut in, his voice beginning to sound a bit more scared. Kingsley sighed.

"Nothing, he wasn't going to say anything."

Harry grit his teeth."I was going to say that I wanted to talk to you, Kingsley, alone, but not now."

He turned heel and walked out of the room.

A few minutes later, Kingsley walked out, past Harry, and into the nearest open room. Lavender and Parvati were gossiping over the _Daily Prophet_ and George Weasley was in the corner, a book in his hands, but staring out the window.

"Everybody, out." Kingsley said in a firm tone, directing his gaze at the two girls who rolled their eyes and flounced out of the room and into the kitchen.

George gave Kingsley a blank look but didn't move. Kingsley cleared his throat, and George, as if he almost didn't see Kingsley there before, blinked, and recognition passed through his face. He lifted up his left hand and gave Kingsley the finger, going back to staring out the window.

Before Kingsley could react however, Angelina swept into the room, brushed past Kingsley and went straight to George's side. She gently lifted the book out of his hands, and put her hand on his arm, applying enough pressure for him to notice and pay attention. "Come on, George. Let's go get a cup of tea, Merlin knows that you've needed it these past days. I don't think that you've moved from that spot for the past three hours. Come on, I can't do this by myself."

She helped him stand from the chair and supported him as he slowly walked across the room, glaring pointedly at Kingsley as she went. They followed Lavender and Parvati and moments later you could hear the sound of water being poured into a kettle and cups being made.

After shutting the door behind them, Kingsley gestured with a sarcastic flourish towards the armchair that George had vacated. Harry stalked past, ignoring him, towards a straight backed one facing the empty fireplace. Kingsley sighed and pulled up another chair, so that he was across from Harry.

"Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

Harry drew a breath and tried to find the words that would least-irritate Kingsley the most.

"Idon'tthinkthatJacobisthebestfort hisjob."

Kinglsey blinked. "Sorry?"

Harry tried again, slowing down his words. "I don't think that Jacob is the best for this job."

"What do you mean? You chose him yourself; if I don't recall, you called him 'perfect for this sort of work'." Kingsley's gaze was stern, and Harry got the feeling that he was trapped in an argument he couldn't win. Lucky for him, he was unbelievably stubborn, a trait he credited his dad for.

"That was before I saw the effect of outside people and events on his ability to function. Give him a straightforward mission with everything he needs to know, and he has no problem. Add any complications, and he's all of a sudden a mess with an inability to function properly. You and I both know that what is going to come of this mission is entirely unpredictable, yet you weren't going to tell him that there is a 99% chance of something going wrong, for fear of him backing out. He's entirely unprepared because you have only shown him a fraction of what he should know, what would happen if the mission went perfectly, which we know it won't. That's why we didn't send in one of our own people, because then when they are captured, the Death Eaters won't be able to find anything out about our plans. He knows who he's filling in for, and who he's rescuing. He knows a few Death Eaters, and the minister. He knows how to get _in_ to the Ministry, but not how to get _out_. You do realize that you never gave him an escape route or a backup plan? Because you know that if you did, he would know that something wrong is going to happen." Harry's voice had risen a degree, and he was beginning to get desperate.

Kingsley neither denied nor affirmed the accusations.

"We can't afford him to panic, Harry. Surely you understand the need for that. I'm sure that Mr. Amanar is more than capable of what has been set out for him, as long as he keeps his head." He lowered his voice, as if this making it more confidential would make it less of a problem.

"That's just the thing! He won't!" Harry burst in.

"And how do you know that he won't? How do you know that he isn't perfectly able to do something that maybe he could be born to do?" Kingsley boomed angrily. Harry clenched his fist, digging his nails into his palms.

"I know, because I've seen the way he acts around Hermione. He fancies her, Kingsley. And when he sees her in that jail cell, tortured or dead, you know how problematic that's going to be. He's either going to want to make himself a hero and take revenge, killing himself and blowing our cover and the mission, or he's going to give up and break down, killing himself and blowing the mission. Either way, we are going to be caught, and neither him, nor Hermione is ever going to make it out of there alive."

Kinglsey had left the room at that point, ending the conversation with a "You do not have the authority here." leaving Harry alone. He had given no sign to thinking about Harry's words, and when Malfoy had shown up, had sent Jacob off to the Ministry without a single word of warning.

Harry was intercepted on the way to Malfoy's room by Bill Weasley, who had stayed behind at Grimmauld Place as a head of the Order.

"Harry, did Kingsley say who he gave Malfoy's wand to?" He asked him. Harry shrugged.

"I don't know. He's downstairs, if you want to ask him."

Bill frowned. "He wanted to give it to Jacob for the mission, but I stopped him. There was no way I was going to give a non-experienced member of the Order the wand of a dark wizard, the possibility of corruption is too high. I wanted to examine it before it was given to anyone to make sure it was safe, but he took it before I could say anything. Jacob will perform best with his own wand, anyway. And as long as no one notices the difference, he should be fine." This piece of news disturbed Harry, and he paled, thinking of what could happen if Jacob was found out, but if Bill noticed, he made no sign of it.

He patted Harry on the shoulder and made his way downstairs, leaving Harry facing the large, oaken door that was the only thing between him and Draco Malfoy. He pushed, and it swung open easily.

In the middle of the room was a wooden chair. Puddles of water surrounded it, dripping off of the clothes of the chair's occupant; a fashionably dressed and recently bloodied Draco Malfoy. Malfoy looked up as Harry entered the room and smiled to himself.

"Hello again, Potter."

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**Well, there's that, anyone else feeling kinda bad for Jacob? And I apologize for making Kingsley such an arse, but it's gotta be hard being the head of the Order in times like these.**

** Free Kittens to all that Favorite/Review, I love each and every one of you! **


	9. Infiltration and Impaired Thinking

**Hey guys! Sorry I haven't updated in, like, FOREVER, but I've been shuttling back and forth between North Carolina and New York the whole past week, and have only managed to write half of chapter 9; so rather than make you guys hate me even more, I'm uploading it in TWO PARTS. I know, crazy.**

**I also haven't gotten more than 18 hours of sleep in the past 4 days (if you do the math, that's an average of 4.5 hours per night), so please ignore the awful spelling and grammar.**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the Harry Potter Series!**

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**PART 1**

For Jacob, things hadn't been flowing quite so smoothly. He had shot out of one of the fireplaces in the main entrance onto the black marble floor, sweaty hands clutching the extra vial of polyjuice, scrambled to his feet and tucked the vial into 'his' jacket pocket. He looked around nervously, and tried to breathe more evenly.

High vaulted ceilings and tall marble columns led the way down the hallway where an enormous fountain was imposingly placed. A huge block of stone was at it's center, making a large pillar with the Ministry symbol on it, and Jacob caught the words Magic_ Is Might _along it's side, engraved in the marble.

As he cast his gaze downwards, he could see at the base of the pillar, holding it up, were the naked bodies of men, women and children alike, their faces and bodies contorted into expressions of pain and suffering. He assumed they could only be muggles.

Transfixed by the awful image of the fountain, he stood staring for a few moments, unable to move, until the chiming of a great clock brought him back to his senses. 11 times it tolled, 11:00 at night, at Jacob knew that he had to get moving.

_Where did Kingsley say she was? The Dungeons? There's a lift. _

He strode towards the gated lift with a swift and what he hoped to be a confident looking pace. It opened automatically for him, and closed behind him, nearly closing on the tail of his coat, though he barely noticed.

He looked at the wall, covered in glowing buttons. It seemed that the Ministry was far more expansive than they let on. Some levels had a keyhole next to them where the holder of the key, a person of higher standing in the new Ministry, would insert the matching key and gain access to whatever was on that level.

Scanning the wall, he found the level marked with a 'D'. _Dungeons_. _Must be it, then_. It had a small keyhole next to it, and he brushed his hand inside of his pocket, searching for the key. His hand brushed against something small and cold, and when he brought it up to the light, he could see that it was a small golden it into the keyhole, he saw that it was a perfect fit.

The button glowed, Jacob having activated it, and he pressed it. The lift shuddered, but didn't move. He pushed the button again, before it started to fade, and groaning, the lift moved backwards a fraction of an inch, but no further.

_That's odd. I guess it's the _stairs_ then_. He pressed the button indicating the lift's open doors, but they remained firmly shut. Jacob Amanar began to sweat.

_My first mission for the Oder, and I manage to get stuck in a bloody lift! How am I going to get out of this all the while staying inconspicuous?_

The tapping of shoes indicated someone coming, and Jacob pressed his back against the wall of the lift, hoping it would make him more invisible.

An oily looking man dressed sharply in black robes passed the lift, and merely glancing to his left, saw the Draco look-alike standing holding his breath and trying to blend into the wall of an unmoving lift. Naturally, like anyone else would do given the circumstances, he wandered over. But as he got nearer, a look of recognition passed across his face, and his pace slowed to an almost saunter, his mouth turned into a smirk.

"Look at you, Draco Malfoy, caught in a lift. Do you need something?" The man stood at the entrance of the lift, gazing in at its prisoner. Jacob exhaled, and did the best impression of Malfoy as he could. "Of course, you idiotic excuse for a wizard. Do you think I prefer standing here wasting my time when I could be out having dinner in London? Go get someone, if you want to be of any help." He sneered.

The man frowned. "Had another fight with Astoria again mate? It's like Blaise and I have been trying to tell you, don't let the bloody bitch rule your life!" it then occurred to Jacob that he was talking with one of Malfoy's friends, and he frowned, trying to place him. _Who did Kingsley say would be hanging out with Malfoy? Blaise, and Theo was it? This must be Theo. And this Astoria chick must be Malfoy's mistress or whatnot. _

He cleared his throat, and decided to go out onto a limb. "I've been bloody trying to, but she won't get a hint. Skull's too thick. Now let me out Theo, I've got to go see Bellatrix." Theodore Nott rolled his eyes.

"Are you a wizard or aren't you?" Jacob blushed at the blatant point, but soon paled when he realized that he didn't have Malfoy's wand. If Nott noticed, he would get caught for sure.

"If my wand was working, I would have as soon as I got stuck, but it, um, got cracked when Astoria threw a plate at my head and I tried to block it. I dropped it off at Olivanders and I've been using one he gave me."

When Theo began to slowly nod in understanding, Jacob let out a silent sigh of relief.

"_Alohomora_." Nott pointed his wand at the lock holding the gates closed, and it clicked, the doors swinging open. Jacob/Draco strode out and nodded his thanks to Nott as he passed, "Well, I have to go. See you tomorrow," leaving behind a slightly befuddled Theodore Nott.

Rounding the corner, Jacob collapsed against the wall, stifling a nervous giggle fit from the close escape. He peeked around the corner, where Nott was just starting to walk away again, and feeling very spy-like, carefully moved out of view again. He spotted the entrance to a stairway that seemed to lead downwards, and carefully descended the winding staircase into the darkness...

_278, 279, 280!_ Jacob sprawled out onto the floor at the foot of the staircase, his legs unable to hold him up any longer. He had always been a big runner, and going up stairs was easy for him. It was going down them that he couldn't handle, and 280 was just about as much as he could take without falling on his face. He lifted himself slowly to his feet, and inspected his surroundings.

There was a musky sort of smell coating the entire area, that seemed to be emitting from the very walls themselves. Bits of moss and some sort of fungus grew from the ceiling, and Jacob could hear the sounds of water dripping down onto the cold stone floor. No longer did black polished marble coat the hallway, but gray uneven pieces of stone paved the way.

Jacob slowly began to walk down the hall, Draco's shoes tapping obnoxiously as he walked. He passed several rooms, gated off by iron bars and locked with rusty locks. Several of the cells had occupants, all of which seemed to be in a deep slumber, and all a great number to a cell. Peering into one cell, he could make out the individual shapes of twelve persons, huddled against the wall or clinging to each other in their sleep.

He traveled down the length of the hall, until he came to the last cell. This cell only had one occupant. Jacob peered through, and caught a glimpse of bushy hair. "Hermione?" He called softly. She didn't stir.

"Lumos." Jacob murmured. The smallest hint of light came from his wand, and he raised it to shine into the cell. Hermione was spread eagle on the floor, in a pool of blood, unmoving, her eyes closed.

"Oh shit." Jacob croaked, holding his stomach as if to keep it's contents from coming back up. He pointed his wand at the lock. "Alohomora." and to his surprise, it swung open. He stepped inside, holding his nose to stop the thick stench of blood and death. He bent down and pressed his fingers to her neck, where he could feel the shallowest beating of a heart.

"Alright, time to get you out of this hellhole." Jacob muttered. He picked her up lightly, her head lolling back against his shoulder and her breathing undisturbed, and just as he was about to open the cell door back up, he heard the shrill voice of a woman, and the deeper tone of a man's laugh.

"Excellent. We'll see if the mudblood will talk now, she has no idea what I have in store for her, the stupid bitch." Jacob paled as he heard this, and as the voices grew nearer and nearer, Jacob knew their intent was to check in on Hermione. He saw the forms of two people heading his way, and extinguished his wand, though he could still see them.

The man's form he did not recognize. But the woman's sent a shiver down his spine. This was the woman whom he had heard about numerous times from Harry and the other Order Members, one who would creep into his nightmares and cause him to wake up screaming, the woman who was told to be worse than you-know-who himself.

Jacob pressed his back against the cold wall and shut his eyes.

"Bellatrix Lestrange."

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**Sorry to leave you all on a cliff hanger, but it had to be done...**

**So, R&R please, and cookies to those who do. Yummy chocolatey chunky delicious cookies. Speaking of cookies (except not really) I decided that I have been socially awkward for long enough, and am pondering the question as to whether or not I should get a Twitter! I've been wanting one, but I want a few outside opinions first... Plus, we could get to know each other more better. More betterer. Better. **

**I promise I will update PART 2 sometime within the next few weeks. But until we meet again, I love you all! Yes, even you, you intravert, you, who spends all your time reading fanfiction stories online...it's okay though, because it's people like you who keep me going, so I love you all! Thanks for reading, I'll be back soon!**


	10. Failed Interrogation

**He-ey everybody...long time no see. So I've diagnosed myself with chronic Writer's Block, and this story is just writing itself because I've just completely lost it. **

**This chapter was just going to be an Author's Note to explain why I haven't updated in forever, but I decided that would be evil, so I tried to put something together.**

**Please read the bottom authors notes, as they contain some very important questions...**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the Harry Potter series!**

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Back at the Headquarters of the Order of the Pheonix, Harry sat on the edge of his chair facing his slightly damp but ever-so-arrogant enemy. Green eyes glared into the other's icy blue ones, in a silent exchange. Finally, with a sigh, Harry looked away. The blonde smirked.

Malfoy's unnerving glare sent shivers down Harry's spine, and he couldn't help but remember the boy he was at school. In their sixth year and throughout Malfoy's seventh year, rumors had been circulating that Voldemort had taken Malfoy up as his 'apprentice' with the intention that he would carry on his legacy after his death. Harry knew that the wizard facing him now was much stronger than anyone else had anticipated, and he was suddenly full aware the danger that had been brought in to the Headquarters.

This was not the boy who had cowered in the Room of Requirement in the face of the roaring fire, this was a ruthless killing machine, and Harry knew it. The countless reports in _The Quibbler_ (Luna's father secretly printed off the copies after the Death Eaters took over the newspapers, and he distributed them among members and friends of the Order) explained in full detail the extent of the Death Eater's reign of terror all around the world, and the countless killing sprees. Unleashing dementors on innocent muggles, setting loose werewolves in cities, and vampires and all sorts of monsters haunted streets everywhere.

Harry procured from his pocket the small bottle, filled with a clear liquid. Veritaserum. Malfoy's eyes showed no signs of surprise, or even interest. Harry tried his best to sound professional.

"You know what this is, and I won't use it unless I think you're being unreasonable and a liar."

Malfoy snorted. "That won't change my personality, I'm afraid. It may keep me from outright lying, but that's not going to stop me from acting however I want. I think you'll find I've had quite a lot of time to practice being a bastardly son-of-a-bitch. Though I must say, you play the part equally as well."

Harry reddened. "All the same, I will use it if I need to."

Malfoy's eyes seemed to say _go right ahead _and his calmness infuriated Harry. "Well then," he said abruptly, "let's get started."

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Already a full Occlumens (and able to aptly preform Legilimens), Draco was perfectly at ease in his position. He knew that he was too high in the Death Eater's Ranks to lose, and besides, he was the Dark Lord's successor, at least when _dear_ Aunt Bellatrix was out of the picture. She had stepped in with the help of some of the elder death eaters who had previously been _his _advisors and together they had offered him the spot of Bellatrix's right-hand man, her deputy of sorts, with her in charge. He had no choice but to accept and bide his time, though he knew that she would be on her guard.

He also knew that the more 'at ease' he seemed, the more infuriated Potter looked. His face looked red, and his glasses were askew, not to mention he was nervously tapping his foot.

Harry was about to ask his first question, when Draco smoothly interrupted.

"Surprised weasel isn't with you. Oh, my bad, the weasel's out of the picture now, isn't he. Shame, I guess there goes Granger's last chance at ever getting married."

Harry sputtered, and his hands clenched up. Draco kept going.

"I don't how you can live with yourself, knowing that you've practically killed your little best friend. Half of your little posse gone, soon you'll just run out of people to worship you, Saint Potter, they'll all die, and then where will you be with no one to dress you and shower you with compliments?"

Harry stood up and began walking towards the door. he stopped halfway, turned around, looked back at Draco, pointed his wand at him and muttered "_ernunculus_." and walked out, shutting the door behind him, and not bothering to marvel at his handiwork, a large, itchy, botchy, red rash that had begun to form all over Malfoy's face.

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**To all those that R&R at that pitifully short chapter...food. Enough said.**

**So I mentioned up top the writer's block. When they find a cure, I promise I will be first in line, but for now, I might have to run off external ideas. Which is where you all come in! Just PM me or review the story with your ideas or what you want to happen concerning...**

**1.) Draco's changing relationship with the Order of the Pheonix**

**2.) Draco and Hermione's relationship**

**3.) How Jacob escapes from the Ministry**

**Of course, any other ideas are welcome! So please let me know, every little bit helps!**

**Also I'm putting up a poll for how you want Draco's character to turn out...I can write it either way!**

**I'm going to go look up cures for Writer's Block. Hopefully see you all again soon.**


	11. Malfoy Manor

**Wow, it's been a while since I last updated. A long loooooong time. Writer's block leaves no rest for the wicked. I totally just botched that quote, but screw it. Finally I wised up and got some caffeine into my system so I could sit down long enough to work on this.**

**Hope everyone is enjoying their summer back in the states, and if you're elsewhere while you're reading this, I hope that your weather has been significantly better than ours. The mix between hurricane storms and stifling heat just isn't helping.**

**Anywaaaaaay, I figured this chapter we would check back in on Jacob and see how he's doing, the poor thing.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the Harry Potter series!**

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_*Previously on The Beauty of the Beast*_

_Jacob pressed his back against the cold wall and shut his eyes._

_"Bellatrix Lestrange."_

Thoughts about what she could do to him if he got caught raced through his head before he could block them out. Images of him and Hermione, lying side by side on the cold floor, bleeding through deadly twin wounds to their own demises flashed before him, and he struggled to stay focused and steady his ragged breathing.

Hermione lay limp as a rag doll in his arms, her pale face reflecting none of the fear and worry that Jacob's did.

As the footsteps neared, Jacob seemed to snap back to reality. He lay Hermione back down on the floor, and arranged her in a semi-concievable state of false sleep, with her arm under her head, and her legs tucked up close to her torso, in a somewhat awkward fetal position. Lifting up a lock of her hair, he neatly cut it with his wand, until he had a few brown curls. He then quickly conjured a straight-backed chair in the corner, and sat in it, arranging his robes so that they did not brush the ground.

Having done this, he materialized a small blue flame, not nearly as beautiful as the ones that Hermione was apt at making, but a more hurried and purposeful one.

The footsteps finally reached the door, and before either of the figures could vocalize their surprise at the unlocked cell door, Jacob spoke, with a slightly deeper voice and sneering tone, "Come in. Unless you're squeamish."

Bellatrix's astonished look was quickly masked with a face of derision. "Finally decided to be a man, hmm Draco? I must admit, it's not like you to be so faint and girlish after a quick torturing session. Realized that the mudblood had more balls than you? Come to change that with what, a fire and is that hair?" She mocked, glaring at the figure in the chair.

Jacob (A/N: Hell, for the sake of it, I'm calling him Jacob. Just remember everyone thinks he's Draco.) sat a little taller in the chair and straightened his robes, brushing some imaginary grime off of them. "I would be surprised to find someone _not_ as equally repulsed by such a primitive method of torture as I had appeared to be. And such means of torture need not be necessary, _dearest aunt_, as you could have caused, and may very well have caused, serious injury, that could result in the mudblood's immediate death, in which case, she would be no use to us whatsoever."

He fixed them both with a glare that he had come to perfect in the past 15 minutes of being in the ministry.

"And as to my current position, I am deducing the exact amount of time it takes for this mudblood's precious hair to burn." As if to prove his point, he let the lock of hair fall onto the fire, where it promptly burst into flame.

Bellatrix, unfazed by the outburst of accusations against her, simply shrugged. "How else should I have dealt with it, _dearest nephew_? It is not becoming of you to show such pity. I assume it is because of your _mother_, the weakling that she was. She never had a backbone, my sister, and she deserved the death that she got. I must say, I did enjoy watching it. But it seems that she has passed that _undesireable trait_ on to _you_."

Jacob steeled his face into one of impassiveness. "You will answer to what you have said about my mother later, but for now, in answer to your questions of the girl. Give her to me. I have been perfecting safer, yet equally painful methods of getting her to talk. For unlike you, Aunt Bella, I am able to utilize more psychological fears than physical ones, and they have proven to be quite accurate at giving me what I want, if anything, more so than your primitive methods."

He didn't break eye contact with Bellatrix for a second, knowing full well that she would be looking for signs that he was lying.

"Show me one of these 'psychological' fears you have in mind, and I may consider it briefly." She smirked, calling his bluff.

Internally, Jacob paled, but on the outside, he remained as calm as before. "Very well."

He stood up and slowly made his way over to where Hermione lay. Her breathing had evened, he noticed, and he deduced that she would be in a state of REM sleep, by the way that he eyelids fluttered.

'_I'm sorry_ _Hermione_.' He thought. Raising his wand (thankfully, Bellatrix and her companion were focused more on Hermione than his obviously-not-Draco's wand), he pointed it at her head, and muttered the start of the spell "_Somnium Transferre_*". Formulating gruesome and nightmarish pictures in his head, he let his subconscious thoughts stream into the connection formed between his mind to his wand, and from the wand, into Hermione's subconscious. Almost immediately, her face contorted in grief and fear, her limbs began to twitch, and she whimpered in her sleep.

Jacob had first learned this spell in his 6th year at his school in Romania. Following the gruesome murder of one of his father's co-workers, he began having uncontrollable nightmares, to the point where he was unable to sleep at night, and began failing his classes. The school's nurse, Madame Galena**, unwilling to give him a sleeping draught every night for fear of addiction to it, created a spell that would allow her to essentially control his dreams.

Every night, he would visit the infirmary, where she would place him under a light sleeping spell, and then commence to 'create' pleasant dreams in her own mind, before transferring them over to his own, until his subconscious took over and she would levitate him back to his own room, sleeping soundly. After a few months of this 'dream therapy', Jacob found he was then capable of lucid dreaming***, a supposed side effect of the spell, and was no more in need of the dream transfer. The spell was kept secret between Madame Galena, himself, and the school's headmaster, for the potential of the spell had not fully been discovered, and situations such as the one Jacob was in right now, could arise because of it.

While Jacob had never previously tried the spell on a human (he tried once on his cat, with terrifying results, but that's another story...), he was relatively confident in his abilities after studying it with his old nurse for so long.

Focusing now on the steady stream of terrifying images flowing from his wand to Hermione, he pictured her staring at the dead, headless bodies of those who had died in the Battle of Hogwarts, Lupin, Tonks, Colin, Fred, and finally Ron. It was only when Hermione began screaming and crying, thrashing wildly around on the floor before him, was he jerked back into the reality of what he was doing, and he lowered his wand, ashamed and disgusted at himself and what he was doing.

But no disgust showed itself in Bellatrix's face. Awe and pride radiated off of every inch of her.

"What did you do to her?" she cackled, clearly having enjoyed the show, and still watching as Hermione's form slowly stilled and her outright crying ceased into a soft sniffling.

Jacob shook his head, clearing his mind of the awful images, and feeling himself on the brink of tears himself, brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to make it look arbitrary and nonchalant.

Unwilling to reveal the secrets of what he just did, he retorted with a sharp. "That, dear aunt, is for me to know, and you to find out. Now, I believe we had a deal to discuss about the treatment of the mudblood?"

Bellatrix, slightly put off at her nephew's disinclination to explain the workings of the spell to her, nodded slightly, befuddled. "You, leave." She ordered, pointing first to her companion, who had stood watching in silent fascination the entire time, and then at the slightly ajar door. He nodded, and shuffled out.

As soon as the third party left, Bellatrix fixed Jacob with an icy stare. He returned it all too willingly.

She stepped towards him, her shoes grinding against the stone, and stopped when she was 2 feet away from him. Raising one finger, it's long, black painted nail extended in his direction, she hissed, "I don't know what you're up to, or what you want, but I do know that your pretty little spells won't save you or the mudblood from the punishment I will give you, if I find that you are, in any way, showing her leniency or sympathy. She is a mudblood, and a dangerous enemy. I will not have your stupidity ruin us all, by letting her escape, accident or not, I will have your head. See that it does not happen. I will be stationing guards at all entrances to Malfoy Manor, as well as in it, and until I can trust you further, there will be a Death Eater of my choosing constantly with you whenever you are with the mudblood to ensure you don't do anything _regrettable_. I am only agreeing to this because I myself can not constantly be with the mudblood. See to it that you do not. Disappoint. Me." She spat each of the remaining words, and turned on her heel.

"Bring the mudblood, I will accompany you back to the Manor, to make sure you don't do anything stupid. I trust there is a cell for her there?"

Jacob mutely nodded, and stooped to pick up Hermione's still sleeping form, until Bellatrix's glare stopped him.

"Touching the mudblood with your bare hands? I'm surprised at you Draco. Levitate her if you must, but don't touch her, you'll get your hands dirty."

Jacob tried in vain to stop the flush creeping up his neck from showing on his cheeks. He busied himself with levitating Hermione until she was floating in front of him, and followed Bellatrix out of the cell and into the long hallway without a second glance back.

*280 more stairs later*

Bellatrix stopped in front of one of the giant fireplaces, with Jacob levitating Hermione right behind her.

"You go first." She said, pointing at the floo powder. "And take the mudblood with you."

Jacob nodded, and grasped a handfull of powder and threw it into the fireplace, where green flames sprang up soon after. Taking hold of one of the edges of Hermione's tattered robes, he pulled her into the fireplace after him.

Without breathing in the smoke and ash, he heard himself say calmly and loudly, "Malfoy Manor."

Seconds later, he was shooting out of a huge, black, hearth into a great and majestic room, with emerald green chairs and couches, and tall ceiling high windows whose emerald and black curtains were drawn shut to block the light from coming in. A few cushions were on the floor by one of the green couches, and an expensive-looking vase lay shattered by the opposite wall. On the table by the couch stood a bottle of Muggle Vodka. Jacob was struck with the elegance of the place, and would have complimented it in another time, if it was not also the home of several horrors. Seconds after he arrived, the _whoosh! _of the fireplace reminded him that he was not yet alone, and was still accompanied by his sadistic not-of-his-choosing companion.

She stepped up beside him, and he was surprised to see that with his new appearance, she only came up to his chin, though her hair made up for the difference. Looking around, she smiled a toothy and wicked grin, and said with a cruel irony,

"Welcome home, _Mr. Malfoy_."

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***Dream Transfer**

****Greek name meaning Healer**

*****For those who don't know, Lucid dreaming allows you to control you own dreams. I can't do it, but if you can, review to let me know how you do it! It sounds really cool.**

**So, there's another chapter done. Woohoo! That was all in one sitting too. I hope you are all duly impressed. So, we'll find out more about Jacob's troubles in the next chapter, like, for example, where's he going to get the extra polyjuice potion. Who knows? We'll just have to wait and see. MWAHAHAHAHAHA! I love controlling the plot.**

**Review if you want to find out what happened to Jacob's cat! If you are uninterested in the feline adventures of said cat, may the sparkly Edward Cullen sneak into your rooms at night and watch you sleep. Or just go step on a lego.**

**I hope you liked, and I'll try to upload faster in the future (hah, who are we kidding, this is me we're talking about) but for those of you who waited patiently for it, I appreciate your patience. Smooches!**

**'Til next time!**


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